Return to Normalcy
by Konig15
Summary: Guardia struggles to enter the modern age while facing industrialization, violent relovutionaries, and an arms race it cannot hope to win. This turbulent time Crono, Lucca and Nadia call home. In this chapter: Not so sweet dreams for the hero.
1. A Letter to the King

Author's note: Hello readers! If you happen to read my bio you will notice two things: 1. I am pompous, and 2. I am working on a very long Chrono Trigger fanfiction story. Unfortunately, it exists mostly in my head, and not on paper, though I've had the basics of the story established for over a year. I didn't want to this first chapter up just yet, but I'm going to be twenty years old in two months and I'm going to be working on Chrono Trigger fanfiction. I'm not quite sure what that says about me, but I want to see if there is an audience for my work.

            I will be upfront: "Return to Normalcy" will not be like any thing I've yet read on fanfiction.net. Most of the stuff here has a very anime feel to it, and not without good reason. "Return" will be more like a spaghetti western, with magic. It will be brutal, violent and bloody. I will introduce concepts and characters never seen before in this genre. I don't claim to be a particularly good writer, but I will do my best to entertain you. And if you happened to read my 'Guardian Angel' piece, intellectual Crono is back with a vengeance, though this is not a sequel. 

            I don't write regularly, and therefore I can't in good conscience ask for a beta reader. Eventually, I will take this down to the Writing Center, but they won't know what the hell's going on without a good background. That's what this chapter is. I'm hoping it will be received well here and I'll have impetus to write faster, but I want comments of all kinds, including Flames, if you feel you must. Also, I can't seem to upload documents verbatim: Paragraph formation is distorted, centering is voided, the like. Any help would be appreciated. Thank you.     

A Letter to the King

_And so the angel Christopher, patron of travelers, took me from myself. And behold, he showed me a land, rich and green, wherein the cities grew to surpass the mountains and rivaled the sun with their brilliance, and the roads stood wide and study and clean, despite the multitude that thronged along them. I asked him, good angel, where have you taken me? And he responded thus, this is the future, and here you must see things and hear things to come, now I bid you watch and wait.    _

_Anon, the sky blackened, and the ground shook in such a furry I cannot describe. In a barren patch of land, the earth opened, swallowing those above whole. This crevice spewed forth a hideous beast, larger than the largest citadel in the Imperium, and it in turn spewed fire into the sky and onto the land, scorching all: the young and old, the sick and the infirm. The cities crumbled as the land itself was torn asunder and reshaped as if by an evil will. The men, clad in fearsome armor and mounted on steeds, and fowl, and fish of awesome size and scope, bearing weapons of unimaginable power, fought the beast in valiant fashion, only to be impaled on the huge spines of the beast, or scorched by the fire, while the beast's worm mouth opened and closed in silent laughter. For none could harm it, none could stop it, and the beast new this._

Seeing this, I wept bitterly. The angel spoke: it is finished. Never again will man know bounty, nor pleasure, nor peace. He shall only know suffering and death. In a little while, man will be no more. For he has come: the Lavos, the eater of worlds, devourer of planets. I asked the angel why this would come to be, and he told me it was judgment of man's past sins, which he forbade me to reveal. For among other things, the mighty Zealots once used this knowledge to try and make themselves gods, and He who rules alone shall suffer no rival. 

I pleaded with Christopher that there must be a way to prevent this. He spoke unto me: The Lord is firm and harsh with the unrighteous but merciful to the good and the penitent. Therefore, trust in the Lord and his Liaison, and man might yet escape this fate. But this one portion of man's demise, ultimately, is of little consequence, so come, I have much more to show you…

The Endings as Seen by Saint Pathmos

To the righteous and wise Nikoli, 33rd king of the Guardian Kingdom, 2nd to bear the name, defender of the faith, protector of the realm, benefactor of all Acacians:

Your Majesty, if you have received this letter, I am, in all likelihood, no longer among the living. And as the dead have little to gain from lies, I ask that you believe the words herein, and take action as you see fit. At our last meeting, and with no small amount of subterfuge, my colleges and I departed without informing your highness of the dangerous quest that we have undertaken. 

It may seem strange to Your Majesty that I transcribe the entire fifth chapter of the last book in the Testament, but it underscores the import of this letter. For more than nine hundred years, scholars and theologians have debated the exact context of Endings, chapter five. The popular notion of the modern day is that the passage is purely symbolic; that the Lavos is the greed and desires of all mankind, seeking to escape control and cause havoc upon the world. Unfortunately, this view is completely false.             

Lavos, far from a metaphor, is a very real creature; most closely resembling a giant porcupine, though I readily admit this comparison is rather crude. St. Pathmos does no justice to the dimensions of the beast, and very little to its power. I have seen this creature for myself; I have fought it, and almost lost my life in the process. I must not tarry, for though it seems illogical, I have precious little time. 

I can tell you now that our escape from the Guardian Royal Prison some months ago was facilitated by a 'temporal Gate:' a rift in space-time that can instantaneously transport one from year A to the same spatial location in year B; in the case of that particular gate, 1000 and 2300AD respectively. Upon our arrival in the far future, we quickly discovered neither Guardian, nor any other civilization in the ruins of Zenan, merely small bands of survivors too weak from starvation to fend for themselves. 

Eventually, we happened upon a place called Arris. In its bowels, we discovered that indeed, the Testimonial  'Day of Lavos' is a real historical event, set to occur in the early afternoon of May 26th 1999.  Worse, Lavos will rise from the earth roughly halfway between our capital, Truce, and the straights of Zenan, causing untold destruction to our descendents. For this reason, it is imperative that Guardians, above all the other peoples of the earth, must take interest in this beast's destruction. 

Seeing this, we, as your loyal subjects, took it upon ourselves to destroy him; we it on good information that such a feat is not impossible. More troubling though, we have been told that we are, in fact, the only ones capable of preventing the death of mankind. Contrary to the opinions of the others, I feel the struggle must continue even if we fail. My companions feel it better not to place impending doom on a people destined for destruction. For my part, I refuse to believe man incapable of saving himself. 

I will relate as much information as possible; but as my time is running out, I must convey the cardinal points first. There are three Gates within our time: the northernmost pavilion of Leene Square, the clearing in Guardia Forest wherefrom we escaped, and the first floor wardrobe of 719 Halestar, Medina. If you receive this letter, I beg you to give my gratitude to the imp couple who lives there. Their generosity touched us all. The foremost Gate connects to 600 and the others connect to 2300. 

These Gates may be activated by the use of a 'Gate Key,' the schematics of which I have enclosed. In passive charge, the Key causes Gates to become visible as floating, pulsating spheres, and an active charge will expand a Gate to its full dimensions, allowing temporal displacement. Though equilibrium and balance can be lost, the worst effect of Gate use seems to be intense nausea. 

The operation of temporal Gates is dogged with laws that to my understanding are completely arbitrary. The Gates are exact connecting points, down to at least the second. For example, at this moment, it is October 29th, 11:34AM and if one were so inclined as to enter the 'Pavilion' Gate and spend twenty-six minutes at the terminus, Truce Canyon of 600 it would be 12:00 on Oct. 29th there. Upon a return, one would find it to be noon in Leene Square as well. Because the years seem to be synchronized by the formula: X multiplied by 10 to the Y power, where Y is greater than one, leap years are of no practical concern. I have however, tried to make sense of the mechanics of space-time, without much success, due entirely to a lack of information.     

One of the more puzzling aspects of time travel is the so-called Time Conservation Theorem, which states when more than three_ beings_ attempt simultaneous use of a single Gate, they will be sent to 'the space time coordinates of least resistance.' The Theorem seems to discount mass and volume entirely, and it seems the various unmentionable creatures one inevitably attracts on long trips are not sufficient beings in the calculus of the equation. 

The space-time coordinate of least resistance is called End of Time. Logically, if it was time's end, movement in the fourth dimension should cease, thus forever trapping anyone who enters, but at this moment I sit here, writing this letter (and not suffering at all from a lack of hand cramps, I might add). 

The End of Time, it seems, has air, gravity and a functioning fourth dimension. At one time, I would have denied that it could be the literal end of time, but in my travels I have been constantly reassured of the validity of Sewcrates' ancient maxim "The wise man is the one who knows he truly knows nothing." The dimensions of the place I need not describe, I need only say that it is safe. 

Most of our direct knowledge concerning time travel comes from the lone human of this place, Gaspar, the last Zealean Guru of Time. Aside from the lack of the Lavosian element, it seems that Cupo's "Fall of Zeal" was uncannily accurate in describing the last days of a kingdom that many, including myself until recently, thought nonexistent. 

Gaspar is the one who has told us we are the only ones who can destroy Lavos. We are aware that he knows many things, and I suspect he knows far more than he tells. I do not think he is a liar, but I do not trust anyone who speaks in riddles and half-truths. And though it would seem we should have all the time in the world, he continuously informs us that our window of opportunity is rapidly closing. I, We, cannot gamble on this, which is why we move with such haste.  

One final note on the End of Time: here dwells Spekkio, a polymorphic creature claiming to be the 'Master of War.' Treat him well, for he may bestow magical abilities upon those whom he sees fit. These powers have proved to be most useful to us.

Due to the multiple, gross violations of logic and all precedence in our observation of natural law, I have postulated that the Gates are in fact the creation of an unknown Entity, which has purposely placed these Gates at locations where we could find them. From the times to which they give access, we have seen many things, especially the occasionally active influence of Lavos upon our history. I will only hazard to guess that this Entity wants Lavos destroyed as much as we do. 

If it becomes necessary to activate this plan, and it is executed properly, Your Majesty will find something far more useful than Gaspar's riddles at the End of Time: a functioning time machine, which we have christened the Epoch. It was built by another temporally dislocated Zealot, Belthasar, the last Guru of Reason. Unfortunately, he died without leaving any schematics, and like the Gates, it is calibrated by year, with six presets that I have been unable to alter. For obvious reasons, I have not yet dismantled the machine for study. I have also enclosed instructions on the basic operations of the machine, which is not only capable of time travel, but also of flight at unheard speeds (at least in our era). In its rear storage area, there is a priceless treasure. During the course of our travels, I was able to procure a copy of Lost Testaments of Zeal. They are works of cultural, historical, and perhaps, theological value to the whole of Liaisondom. Translating them has been a joy for me, and in truth, it has likely kept me sane these last few months. They are my rampart against the drudgery and danger I have come to face daily. If nothing else comes to fruition, this is my gift to the Guardian people. 

At this point, I must make an addition that really has no place in the rest of this letter, a matter that concerns the Black Omen. If you know nothing of that floating, onyx monstrosity hanging above our Kingdom, be thankful, for we have destroyed it. It is, or was, the last remnant of Zealean civilization. Once it was called the 'Ocean Palace' and despite the name, it was designed to be nothing more than a giant power station, draining the Lavosian energies. The Ocean Palace was the means by which, according to the Testament, the Zealots tried to render themselves gods. It is now corrupted by the energies it was supposed to harness, and can only pose harm to our Kingdom.   

We have done many things to prepare us for the struggle ahead. I will not elaborate on these events, as I have neither the time, nor the interest to transcribe them. If we fail, nothing else in our adventure will matter. But we do not fight alone. We have many of the foremost fighters in the history of Guardia and beyond.  

There is Sir Glenn of Trann, also known as the Frog, companion of Sir Cyrus, retainer of Queen Leene. He is every bit the swordsman that legend holds him to be, despite the curse that has left his body warped in the form of a frog. His sense of honor is greater than mine ever will, for he now fights along side his nemesis. 

It is with some regret that I tell my lord that the Magus is amongst our less than merry band, and not among the dead. The warlock is yet another displaced Zealot, the crown prince of that kingdom. In his younger life, he saw Lavos destroy both it and his mother. While whipping up the Mystics to wage war on our kingdom four hundred years ago, he secretly plotted to summon and destroy the Planted Devourer for the sole purpose of revenge. His summons failed and he was again thrown into time. Now we fight together, for he is a potent, if unsociable, ally in this effort. Despite our continued insistence that he show good faith and restore Sir Glenn, he has refused, saying only his good faith is being seen with us 'losers.' No matter what happens though, he will never threaten the Kingdom again, and I will personally see to that.  

There is Prometheus, a Genoan robot from the ruined future. He has proved himself a valuable ally time and again. He is also the metal creature 'stolen' from Fiona's Shrine about three months ago; I ask for pardon from any charge relating to this, as we were rescuing our friend, so that we could continue on our quest. On a side note, I am behooved to say that sentient machines, in general, are quite dangerous. In the three hundred years following the Day of Lavos, the Mother Brian of Geno, took control of the city and began a systematic slaughter of all surviving humans; an effort which ceased only at the former borders of Guardia, at which time we destroyed the computer. You must advise your successors to be careful when developing the technology required to build such machines.   

Ayla, the woman whom Your Majesty saw trying to consume the remains Yarka XIII and whom Your Majesty subsequently enquired, is not a barbarian from the northernmost hinterlands of the Acacian archipelago as we claimed, but a Neanderthal from an era when Acacia was united as subcontinent. Now, modern evolutionary theory has placed the emergence of modern man, beginning the 'Latte Man' at around 2,000,000 B.C. at the earliest. Ayla's people, though, live side by side with large reptilian creatures, referred to in the fast emerging scientific field of paleontology, as 'dinosaurs.' These creatures are almost universally thought to have died out about 65,000,000 years ago. I put these numbers into numerical form so that you can appreciate this vast discrepancy; as a scientist, this revelation blindsided me. In the defense of the paleontologists, I would like to remind His Majesty that Science is a progress; that thought the truths we seek are infallible, our understanding of them is not always so. 

Even this discrepancy dilemma pales in the face other discoveries that we made there; discoveries of which effect the all of subsequent history. But I do not know exactly how long ago Ayla lives (or lived, I am not quite sure as to proper terminology), but I have thus far erred in favor of man's longevity, placing her time at approximately sixty-five million B.C.   

If Your Majesty has been astute, he will want to know how it was Belthasar knew which time periods we needed to traverse. The fact is; he did not. Upon our acquisition of the Epoch, there were only three presets; 2300, the year of Zeal's destruction, twelve thousand years before the foundation of our Kingdom, and the End of Time. It was Gaspar, who reset the presets, during which time; he forced all of us to spar with Spekkio for four hours and twenty-two minutes! He told us he was nervous working around people, so we couldn't be present. Honestly, the nerve of that man! I still have no idea if his alterations were of mechanical or magical nature, though I suspect the latter, for reasons I need not address here. He has been most uncooperative in my enquiries.  

Let us return to Ayla, then. She fights, not simply out of loyalty to us, but also guilt. Unlike Pathmos, I am unbound, and can tell Your Majesty, it was her "sins" if one could call them such, for which Lavos is supposedly a punishment. The details are in the Lost Testaments, and any slight errors the writers make are noted in my translations. I must speak in Alya's defense, for she is of impeccable character. Feral as she is, she makes a fierce and loyal companion. Do not judge her.

There is Your Majesty's daughter, the princess Nadia. She is known to us as Marle, and she is without doubt the heart of our group. Though her rebellious acts may have angered Your Majesty, in our midst, she cannot help but betray the good breeding of the house of Guardia. Aside from her immense physical beauty, she has shown irrepressible goodwill, indomitable resolve, and great courage. I daresay if she were forced, she would fight Lavos alone, for the desire to see justice done burns strongly within her. Your Majesty, you have raised a most regal daughter, and you should be proud.

Aside from myself, of whom I have little to say, there is Crono. While the ancient epics I read in my youth told me of heroes, nothing could prepare me to be in the presence of one. For all the years I spent in childhood with him by my side, I could not have imagined Crono would become the powerful man he is now and I cannot help but think your daughter has been instrumental in his metamorphosis. Know that he loves her, and he will die before she comes to harm.  

We are the seven, culled from humanity to save it. We are now powerful, perhaps more than any human being has a right to be. We shall due our utmost to destroy the fiend who threatens our future. If fortunate favors the foolish, we shall regale Your Majesty with tales of our adventures. If not, know we died as good Guardians; we leave it to the Kingdom to finish what we began some eight months ago. If the Black Omen still hangs above the world, begin there, for it leads to Lavos. This is all I can say in aid. I must now, humbly ask two favors of Your Majesty. First, that you excuse disorganized nature of my letter, and second, that you officially clear my name, and that of Crono, of any wrongdoing against the Kingdom for which we struggled so long to protect.

I remain your faithful servant unto death,

Lucca Lararis Ashtear

October 29th, (1000 A.D.)


	2. Eight Months to Save the World

Author's note: 11-20-02 Hello again. I want to thank Novalon publicly for my one and thus far only review. I understand the underwhelming response, as the last chapter doesn't say anything you don't know, but, though I hate to say it, I'm review whore. I get high off them. That's not really the right terminology, but it's close enough. 

Anyway, this chapter is all about those questions that fans have about the game; questions to which Squaresoft never thought to have an answer for. I know technically, I should have sprinkled them throughout the story, but from the character's point of view, this is the most logical place to do it. This is really the last time they've all got down time, and I know from personal experience that people (read I) like to ask the big questions when under stress, especially when it had nothing to do with the matter at hand. There are a shitload of historical references if you can spot them. This will continue.

This is my first real chapter and I really need some good criticism. It's my first attempt at something that has scene description, extended dialogue etcetera. I especially need to know where I could be more concise; this chapter is so big I had to break it up into two parts. Any feedback on theory plausibility and correct characterization would be helpful too. Again, I can't get my stuff uploaded properly, and need to know what I'm doing wrong. And what in the hell is a WIP? I thank you for your time, now on with the show…

Eight Months to Save the World

End of Time

Parallel time: October 29th 1000 A.D. 12:14 PM

Lucca was more than a little relieved to finally finish that letter. Wincing as she flexed her right wrist, she considered the merits of purchasing a typewriter. It was a little late for that now; perhaps if she had thought things though before she stated, that little nugget of wisdom could have helped her. As she had done perhaps a hundred times before, Lucca swore next time she would premeditatively plan her actions. Her wrist was in agony, and she rubbed it as her legs straightened onto the cobblestone floor, her thighs thankful they were no longer to be used as a writing surface. She missed desks.

It seemed that apprehension was making her extremely sensitive to the pleasures and pain of the flesh. It seemed rather strange to her that she should just then comprehend how physically strong she was. While she showed only a little muscle mass, the trials of the past eight months had made her as fit as any soldier in Guardia. Somehow, despite the surreal nature of the End of Time, she felt more real, more alive, than she had ever felt. 'It is the fear of death that makes life precious.' Lucca had read that somewhere, perhaps in Cupo, maybe Calvin. Crono would know. Philosophy was not something that usually interested Lucca, but Crono liked it. He never showed it though; to him, philosophy was an interesting, but ultimately useless diversion, akin to the Truce Herald's Sunday crossword puzzle. 

That was another thing Lucca missed, newspapers. The last time she read one was, maybe March 12th, right before she sprung Crono out of prison. Then, she'd been terrified. In retrospect, that was still terrifying, but it was a good thing she did it. Otherwise, Crono would have been long dead, and Fritz with him. 

Damn, how long had it been since I've had a real conversation with Fritz Seller? Two, maybe two and a half years? Man, oh man, we all used to be so close. Crono, me, Fritz, Elaine, we used to be like slaves on a galley. We were miserable, but we had each other, and then we drifted apart. For God's sake, Fritz didn't even recognize Crono until after he made that "I got 'Free Goodies' at my dad's store" spiel, though that could easily have been the lighting. Remember when Fritz tried to buy off Mrs. Cooper in the fifth grade? We didn't see him again for a month! And then all he had to say was "Never, ever, never ever, try to and persuade a Grammar teacher into changing your grade!" I don't know what was funnier: that he got caught or that he still wouldn't admit that his 'persuasion' was wrong. After all it wasn't bribery or anything!

Lucca couldn't help but chuckle a little bit. Then she was a little concerned that the echo it produced. The End of Time wasn't particularly large, but it had no roof, and the lack thereof created an acoustic environment that caused echoes. Wait, that wasn't right. It had to be the cobblestones. Brown cobblestones formed the floor and a ten-foot wall that encompassed the whole of the place. Above this was an inky black…nothingness. Even Lucca's feline curiosity was quelled at the thought of exploring it. She was afraid that once outside the confines of the End of Time, there'd be no air, no gravity, and she'd simply float away. Anyway, it had to be the cobblestone's material, because without a roof, sound had only five, instead of the normal six, dominions to bounce off of. 

Oh, Mrs. Cooper would have had a field day with that sentence, as prepositions are never to be at the end of a sentence. This 'valuable' lesson she had pounded into Lucca by having her write a hundred such sentences on the blackboard everyday for three straight weeks, all the while despairing that if she could not teach a genius proper grammar, how would she ever teach the other twenty-two dolts in the class? Ever since, Lucca has held a grudge against grammarians. 

__Lucca knew why she had drifted away, though. First it was the Telepod; her father had been toying with the idea for years, but only together could they build the thing. What a masterpiece of science and innovation! An instantaneous matter transporter, why, it could change the world, if not for that one, tinie, tiny, little fact…

Anyway, the other reason was 'Primary Education'. The other P.E. that Lucca so loathed. Lucca knew, her parents knew, everyone knew she could have finished high school when she was in the sixth grade, but Taban Ashtear, being the eccentric genius he was (emphasis on the eccentric), would not hear of his only child being deprived of all the experiences of childhood. In practice, this meant she had to go to school, all twelve years, no skipping…at all. Lucca thought it rather pathetic that a child should say every year that the only Yuletime present she wanted was to be moved up a grade or two. And that last year, that had been a living nightmare. If Crono hadn't been there…

It was better to think of other things, much better. And thoughts of Crono didn't help because as well as being intellectually alert, Lucca was also highly aroused sexually. Not at anyone in particular, but just aware that she was a very heterosexual female in her reproductive prime, that was all. The letter had only reinforced the idea in her head that she and her allies might not succeed, and Lucca was vaguely disappointed she might die without ever knowing a man. Virginity was expected of Guardian youths, male and female, and she had kept custom voluntarily, or at least she wanted to believe that.

Acacian cultures were infamous for their sexual prudishness. Sex was a declaration of love and an intention to marry. Even remarriage was all but taboo, though many nobles openly flaunted these cultural mores. So rare was noble adherence that many were openly shocked when King Nikoli II had passed five years after the death of Queen Aliza without taking another bride. It had given him enormous moral authority in every corner of Guardia.

The promiscuous sexual behavior of the ancient Zealots, on the other hand, had shocked all company on their first visit through that kingdom. "In those days, the beds of Enhasa were used for far more than contemplative sleep," so Sesom wrote in Ages, the first book of the modern Testament. Lucca wondered if this pattern of understatement was recurrent in throughout the book. It was worse than pre-Liaisonist Hellenean civilization. At least in the Hellenean city-states, monogamy was expected in marriage. In Zeal, adultery, fornication, and homosexuality, all mortal sins, had been openly practiced, sometimes simultaneously, though not nearly on the scale the Testament alluded to. But where it was done… 

Nonetheless, Lucca could not think of the Zealots as a wicked people anymore than she could think that Ayla had committed the "past sins." Some of the Zealots were evil, but most were not. They were naive, misguided, deliberately lied to, but certainly not deserving of the fate they received. In fact, the whole Ocean Palace debacle had been caused by the team's belief that Zeal hadn't yet become corrupt enough to fall. If the whole of Zeal were judged on the actions of the few, then it seemed even a relatively devout kingdom like Guardia was just a stone's throw away from…

Better not to think of that either. Well, now that school, death, sex, and the destruction of Guardia were out, what else was there? Crono and Prometheus were currently out on a mission of some sort, leaving her the watch, and everyone else was asleep. If she hadn't done it so many times before, Lucca would have tried to imagine what Glenn looked like when he was still human. All she knew was that he was tall and had green hair; he couldn't describe his appearance anymore than that. Instead, she wondered if anyone else felt as though their bodies was straining to feel everything they could in preparation for the end. Or if perhaps that Liaisonism was not the true faith, and one of the supposed "demon pretenders" were actually the true creator. Or if they feared Hell, or Oblivion, and which would be a worse fate?

The shields of rationality that had served her so well before, were falling and being cast aside. That old line, the one where they protest "But I'm too young to die…" it was so corny, yet it was what she wanted to scream. Lucca was not quite sure what she wanted to do with her life in any great detail, but she did not wish for things to end here. 

The letter, she could think about the letter! She could see if anything needed to be added in a postscript. So she read, and pondered and thought things she had thought many times before. It calmed her back from hysteria, but there was so much she didn't understand.

_Parallel time is interesting concept to say the least_. Lucca's brain chewed on the concept like an ill-tempered dog. _But damnit, I don't have enough information to let anything go anywhere. I mean, there's no time, such as we know it, here, but events are progressing in each era as we speak. Well, technically, there's no we, and I'm not speaking… Lucca! Don't ramble! _

No matter how cynical the people of Truce were about her and her inventions, Lucca was her own toughest critic. Intellectually, she knew that to be true of everyone. Emotionally however, she was terrified that all people were as unforgiving and brutal to her as she was to herself. That half crazed demeanor she tried to put on whenever she was in public only served to hide how timid she actually felt.

Back to the matter at hand, she checked her watch, a nice brass pocket watch her father had given her as a graduation gift. To Lucca, just being rid a primary education forever was gift enough. It was now 12:21 in the afternoon of October 29th in every era. Lucca again wondered about traveling via the Epoch on a February 29th to a non-Leap Year. She had no real idea what would happen then and this frustrated her greatly. She also wondered if it was proper to end the letter with the date in just her era, as it was the same date in five different eras. It didn't really matter, she supposed.

_Why'd Belthasar haveta keel over? Why?! Genius enough to build his "Wings of Time" but too much of a fool to leave any schematics behind. 'Course all of us great scientists do stupid stuff from time to time, but God help us if I ever need to do anything other than basic maintenance. And then the Leap Year question! I suppose the _Epoch's _internal clock would compensate for such an event, but I can't even figure that out!_

__Lucca knew it was senseless to angry about not understanding technology a thousand years beyond her own _and _Zealean magi-tech, but she wanted to hit something anyway. Before she did anything rash, Crono and Prometheus walked into the cobblestone courtyard she had arbitrarily designated the Lamp Court. Not wanting the others to see what she had been working on, she quickly put that important letter in its envelope and tucked both into the inside pocket of her jerkin. 

Then there was Gaspar. 'Think of me as your guide,' he'd told them on several occasions, but he only told them what they 'needed to know,' in riddles and half-truths, as Lucca has put it so eloquently. This drove her to the brink of insanity; after all, who was he, or anyone else for that matter, to decide what she should or shouldn't know? Lucca was of the firm opinion that everything in the universe could be understood by man, provided enough information was given and in small enough segments. If nothing else, she wanted to know why this place was in the style of the city of Geno, circa 1000, and why he was dressed to match, with his brown suit, polished cane and brown derby. Zealots preferred brightly colored, airy clothes; Gaspar looked like a mustached and aging member of Geno's middle class. But he stood there, in the center of the courtyard, sleeping erect, using the lighted lamppost as support, unwilling to answer. 

Lucca noticed that Crono held a large rolled paper in his hand. The man in front of her was quite different from the Crono she knew. That Crono was far from leadership material. In fact, he'd narrowly lost the very unofficial "Least Likely to Succeed in the class of '99" vote at Truce Public High School 3: better known as the Jester's Academy, after the school's sports collective. Despite the name, it had been a good school, academically speaking, preparing its students for secondary education or military service. And most students were lucky; thirty years before, Truce didn't even have public schools.

Lucca's personal mantra during her stay in that purgatory has been '_What the Hell do these kids know?'_ but never had the truth shown itself more clearly than now. Crono's green eyes radiated purpose; his steps echoed confidence. The man who was walking in was a born leader of men. On December 20th, 999, who would have thought the redhead shifting uncomfortably in his graduation robe would change so much in ten months time? Lucca certainly had seen potential in him, but nothing like this. 

Crono unfurled the paper and held it in place as Prometheus tacked it into the wall, using his metal hand as a hammer. It was a black and white rendition of the outside of… _Oh Dear God, it's finally happening. _Lucca knew this was endgame, the goal they had been working towards since that fateful day in the future. 

"Gather 'round, people." Crono spoke firmly, but Lucca knew he was agitated; his idle hands twitched with excitement. Crono rarely talked anymore, ostensibly because it was better to listen and learn than to speak.

The silence was broken, and everyone who had been asleep was now awake and bee lining towards the speaker. One of those six caught Lucca's attention. He was perhaps the most powerful sorcerer the world had ever seen. His long blue hair hung limply from his deathly pale scalp, and his eyes were cruel and indifferent to everything. He was the Magus, the same man who almost destroyed Guardia four centuries before Lucca was even a thought in her parents' heads. Even though he was now an ally of hers, she still struggled to control a hatred that sixteen generations of Guardians knew all too well. Had he not revealed his true identity, she would have killed him long ago.

Once he had been prince Janus, heir to the throne of Zeal. He had been a snotty little brat even then. Afterward, he had grown into murderous animal; hundreds of thousands of Guardians and Mystics had died in a war he had continued for his own arcane plots of revenge. For the sake of his sister Schala, and only because of her, Lucca hadn't sent him to the damnation he so richly deserved. 

But then she found he wasn't quite so bad, for a mass murderer. She respected the man's abilities and understood, somewhat, why he'd done what he had done. He had a sort of professional regard to most of the other six. He respected them, and Lucca was sure he liked Crono, after a fashion. They were tools for him to be sure, but no one ever said 'you can't like your tools.' 

What concerned Lucca was that her ally might turn violent when their alliance had achieved the collective goal. Everyone else got along, despite some inevitable personality conflicts. Lucca had even seen Ayla, fur clad Neanderthal, and Prometheus, large, shiny, golden hued robot, talking at length when the former had night watch where they had to camp. The Magus, on the other hand, was still a genuine threat. In all likelihood, he had been destined to spend the remainder of his life in his home era, scrapping a living of one kind or another in the post Zeal world, until the group intervened. By allowing him to join them, there was a real possibility he could return to Middle Ages, and start another Mystic War. They had to make sure that didn't happen. Sure, he had turned on the Mystic leadership that ruled in his stead, but that was normal Mystic politics back then. Lucca didn't like it, but perhaps she would have to join with Glenn and kill the wizard once his usefulness had ended. It was the sensible thing to do, but Crono would probably defend the Magus. Crono believed in honor, but then again, so did Glenn. They might be able to convince him, but perhaps the wizard would agree to return to 12,000 B.C. where he certainly hadn't caused any harm before.

The team all came close and sat crossed legged, except for the Zealots, who remained standing. When they were still Crono began. "Okay, according to Gaspar, we've done everything we could do to ready ourselves for the final battle with Lavos. The fated hour awaits us." He paused and seemed to gather his thoughts. "There are two avenues of approach. One…" he pointed to a bucket along the wall, containing the one gate that always went to the exact same moment: May 26th 1999. "…is through that bucket. But we're not doing that. Even if we succeed there, who knows what damage what the 'Planet Devourer' will do." He spit out the title of the otherworldly beast. "The other option is to go through the Black Omen. I think I can speak for everyone here when I say I don't want that floating monstrosity around for a second longer than necessary." Everyone gave a brief nod. "You've all heard Gaspar say the Queen of Zeal is still in there. If that's true, then there's a chance, however small, that there are other survivors of the Ocean Palace disaster." He paused; like everyone else present he had terrible memories of it. 

Lucca had been there, the thickest of the thick. _July 19th, 12,000 years before Guardia. Mighty Zeal fell, and most of mankind was obliterated. Zeal tapped into Lavos's immense power, then felt his wrath. The Queen was driven mad, magic among humans all but disappeared, and the Gurus and the prince were scattered to the winds of time. The sky fell, the sea rose, and the land was crushed in between. Hey, who knew I could be poetic? But I was there, we all were, and we fought in vain to stop what was meant to be. And we almost didn't make it out…_ She stopped at that, there was too much she would rather not dredge up.

After the moment passed, Magus asked disinterestedly, "And just whom might we find?"

Crono sighed the way he did when he said something knew was going to sound stupid. "Well, I'm hoping we'll find some surviving Ocean Palace personnel, or advisors." He trailed off, but everyone knew he was hoping against hope, that they'd find Princess Schala. As her kingdom crumbled, she had teleported them out of the Palace, without saving herself. They all owed her dearly.

"So that's why," Crono spoke up again, this time with forced vigor, "we're going to assault the place in 12,000 B.C., unless anyone has any objections." When none where raised, he continued, "The only way to reach the Omen is by the _Epoch_, which will presents us with the first of many difficulties." He pointed at the picture, "This is a sketch of the top half…" He went on to explain how essentially, the chosen team was going to jump out of the time machine and land on the Omen and make there way to what was obviously an entrance. 

"The last one out will throw the switch and send the _Epoch_ back here. With armor and supplies, there's no way we can fit more than three. After that, we'll make our way in, facing only God knows what and God knows how many. With luck, the Omen will retain the Ocean Palace's floor plan but as evil tends to corrupt and twist whatever it touches, that's unlikely. As for the team: I will lead. I have some…unfinished business with the porcupine."

"I will accompany you." Magus didn't volunteer, he imperiously demanded. "It is my right to destroy Lavos, and I need to take of some…family business." No one was about to challenge him. He'd rather kill all of them rather than not be a party to Lavos's destruction.

_Add matricide to the list_, Lucca thought dryly of Magus's sins. 

Crono spoke before anyone else could, "I'd like to remind you that once on the Omen, there's no turning back, no second chances. We will be completely alone, and if we make it through, we'll still have to confront Lavos. Make sure you're up to it."

Lucca wanted to accompany her friend, to make sure history didn't repeat itself. Last time they had gone up against the beast, Crono ended up disintegrated. That started a quest to change history yet again, involving dolls and mountains and funny eggs and a time freeze. The thought of having to do all that again made her nauseous with fatigue. 

"I'll go." Nadia said quietly.

Magus snorted incredulously. "You? Of all the weaklings here, you're the most pathetic. You wouldn't last ten minutes in there." No matter what Magus may have truly thought, he had a reputation to maintain. A reputation as a callous bastard.

Nadia stiffened noticeably "Perhaps alone you might have a point. However, you seem to be forgetting that neither of you has any healing spells. And you _will_ be needing those if the Omen is a bad as Crono thinks it is."

Crono briefly raised his eyebrows in consideration. "Good point Marle, we'll be needing those." His voice was even, but his eyes showed fear for the girl's safety. Trying to calm her, Crono put her hand on her shoulder.

Which was of course, had no effect. "And another thing _Janus,_ it is _my_ kingdom that's going to be destroyed if we don't stop Lavos. I'm coming, and if you don't like it, you can go to Hell, because that's the only place you're going without me." Nadia, though slow to show it, could be both headstrong and as imperious as Magus. She would make a fine queen if her brother died without an heir. 

Magus knew better than to dispute Crono's decisions. "Fine then, the twerp can go, but do not slow us down!" He glared threatening at the princess. "If you do, well, then we shall see how large a splash you make in the ocean. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must prepare." Magus stormed off to his little niche, muttering under his breath about how Zealean princesses knew how to behave themselves.

"I swear, he's as bad as Alexis." Nadia referred to her older brother, who was presently well outside Guadia's borders, where she claimed she could stand him. Speaking of him was the only time Lucca had ever seen the princess genuinely angry, and the inventor could not help but wonder what kind of man the archduke could be. After all, everything else was sunshine and flowers to Nadia. 

It was then the old Crono slipped in for a bit. It was the perfect time to interject a bad, if humorous, one liner. "Oh, I love it when a plan comes together."

To everyone but Lucca, the saying that meant nothing more its face value but it irked the inventor to no end. She thought about responding to it, but decided against it. She'd have to explain Arland, Meridia, the Arland-Meridia War, then the 'plotline' of the really cornball radio serial Crono had just quoted. _Four falsely accused Arland Rangers roaming around helping the little man and making harebrain inventions even Dad knows better than to try is not good entertainment. _They had argued endlessly over that assertion for years. She got up and walked away a little bit and reflected.

Those days were gone; to Lucca they seemed like another lifetime. Her annoyance faded away; Crono's old self could be annoying sometimes, but it was familiar. He didn't appear so foreign. Little was more familiar about Crono that his love of 'Wholesome all-Arlandian Ultraviolence.' He used to talk about how someday he wanted to travel on horseback in the wastes of western Arland, finding and killing outlaws of every kind, and hauling their carcasses to civilization for bounty. 

Back then Crono had been an idiot who wanted to go looking for trouble, so he could make a name for himself. What better place to do it than the one of most violent places on earth? He'd found them both now though. 

He seemed so much more mature now, a difference that distinguished his boyish handsome of then from his manly handsome of now. The feral, appetitive part of her mind, which is innate in mankind, fed on her already aroused state, causing her to imagine doing such things she would never speak of in public. She suppressed these lustful thoughts, eventually, on three grounds: 1. Crono was her best friend, a relationship she was not willing to risk with romantic liaisons. 2. He was taken 3. It disturbed her that fundamentally, she was no more civilized that Ayla. It was only education that separated them and while Ayla was a good woman, Lucca wanted to be a good _and civilized_ woman. In truth, she was not sure whether or not she would chose to be the former if she could not be both. Crono would chose good though; he was a strait arrow going down the straight and narrow. He had always been a good man; he was finally a hero.

"You're thinking about all those stupid things I said about being a hero, aren't you?" Lucca hadn't seen Crono come up to her. He was already geared up for the battle. His normal clothes were gone, replaced with Moon Armor, which by the crest on it had once been property of the Zealean government. His wild hair was contained by a Prism Helm, which was painted black to match the armor.

She thought aloud, "Am I that obvious?" She looked into his now piercing eyes.

Crono sighed, "Lucca, we've known each since you were born, and you've been my best friend for twelve years, and after all that time you'd think I'd be able to read you just a little bit. Hey, if it makes you feel any better, I've finally got the good sense to walk away from trouble." He sighed again, "Lotta good it's doing me now." He looked as though he was carrying the whole world on his shoulders, and in a way, he was. There was too much at stake for him to be sensible.

"I know you want to come, so don't deny it. But the fact is, Marle's right. We're gonna need her if we're going to pull through. And like I said, we can't take everyone. We gotta strike hard, and move fast, which means going in small groups." He paused to gather his thoughts again, "Anyway, Lucca, if the Omen isn't gone in six hours, come get us. Hopefully, we'll have cleared a path for you. Take whomever you feel you need. If I don't make it through, make sure you kill him. Above all else, Lavos must die. Understand?" 

As Crono was leader of the seven _de facto, _so Luccawas second in command, and therefore this was to be expected. She wondered if she looked as ill as she felt. "Yeah, I got it. Lucca Ashtear aims to please." Her words felt hollow coming out.

"Remember, six hours." Crono was deathly quiet.

She then hugged him, as hard as her body would allow. She let him go and looked into his eyes. "Come, back, alive. If you do anything stupid this time, we can't bring your ass back." The quiet intensity of her voice was only match by the pleading of her eyes. Lucca felt sorrow as she stood on her toes and kissed Crono on the forehead.

"Oh, come everyone!" Nadia shouted in consternation. "You all look like we're going off to our doom! If we think we're not going to win, we won't! We're going to save the world here and it feels like I'm at a funeral! Well I'm not dead, and I'm not going to die either!" In a huff, she came over to Crono and put her arms around his neck. "Come on Crono, his _highness_ grows impatient." She pointed to Magus, who was looking more annoyed than usual. _Leave it to Marle to ruin the mood. _

Crono looked at her, "Let him wait. One more second, please." And with that Nadia walked over by Magus. Crono looked at Lucca again and forced a smile. "Hey, I'm glad you were with me, all those years ago. Remember how we used to back each other up, standing up to the schoolyard bullies?"

"Yeah."

"Well, to paraphrase the Duke of Wesley, 'the battle against Lavos was won in the playgrounds of Nede.'"

They both chuckled a little bit. Lucca said, "Yeah. Ours was a short youth, wasn't it? I never understood how they could name that hellish elementary school after the garden paradise."

"'The mind can make a Hell of Heaven or a Heaven of Hell,' thus spoke the Adversary in _Lost Paradise_."

"You're such a Genoaphille, you know that?"

Crono snorted. "Well, a man has to have a hobby. You can only do so much sword practice before the men in white coats take you to the nice hospital with the padded rooms." He looked over and decided Nadia was growing impatient too. He tipped his helmet, flashed a big smile and said in his best Arlandian twang, "Well, little lady, you just sit right there while I skewer me a varmit." He walked to the waiting wizard and the princess, and all three decked in their armors faded from sight as they continued to the _Epoch_. 

Crono and Nadia had their arms around each other, and this fact did nothing to lift Lucca's spirit. Her old friend was gone, replaced by a hero who almost without trying had wooed the fair princess. She should have felt happy for her two friends, but instead, she felt empty. Crono's eyes had shown concern for Nadia, but none for her. Not in that way. Being the tough cookie she was, Lucca put on a calm face. She walked to the remaining three warriors and addressed them, as they all sat cross-legged in a corner.

"Okay, if Crono doesn't come out in six hours, we're going in after him, and finish the job. Prometheus and Glenn will come with me." There was definitely finality in her tone; she wasn't one to change her mind. 

__"Why Ayla no go?" The buxom cavewoman asked in her tongue, "Ayla strong, Ayla fight good."

"Ayla," Lucca began, "You're a really good fighter, but we can only go groups of three, and besides that you're too important to the time stream. You see, Prometheus here has been collecting samples of us, hair to be exact. He's been comparing our, our, Prometheus what is that called?" 

"Deoxyribonucleic Acid, more commonly known as DNA. After the defeat of Mother Brian, and before leaving the city of Geno, I had several samples analyzed by the still functioning computers at 56281 Jekyll Park Way, registered in June 1988 as Watson-Crick Genetic Diagnostics. These samples were of all those present, Crono, Princess Nadia, the Magus, several mystics and 'Enlightened' Zealots. I compiled them in order to determine if there was a genetic component in determining elemental magic assignment. Though no conclusive link was established, analysis of Mitochondrial Deoxyribonucleic Acid, that is, MtDNA, established a thirty five percent chance that Ayla is in fact, an ancestor of the Princess. Perhaps you would like to conclude, Lucca?"

Lucca blinked, and seemed to come out of a trance. Prometheus was fascinating in both his profuse knowledge of science and technology and his personal growth. She was more than happy to be a passive listener when he spoke, but she had to make sure Ayla understood. 

"Oh, yeah. Ayla, that means that your death could cause catastrophic damage to the space-time continuum. I don't expect you to full understand this…" she trailed off, hoping that was enough.

Ayla looked dead at Lucca with a scowl, and proceeded to give her one of the bigger shocks of her life. "Marle is…my daughter, many…generations from my time. If I die, no Marle." Ayla had used personal pronouns for the first time Lucca had known her, and she had spoken in almost perfectly pronounced Guardian. "I…I am…not stupid. I am not…a barbarian. I understand."

Lucca was taken aback, as was Glenn, and it was the latter who spoke first. "Madame Ayla, pray tell us how you came to know how to speak our tongue?"

She crossed her arms. "Prometheus teached me. I told him no talk about it. All you…all of you, think me dumb. But you did dumb thing! Remember…creepy old man by light post cast spell. You understand all speak, all understand your talk. Then old man cast spell on me. You tell king I barbarian from island Siber. I know Barbarian. Barbarian…is bad woman. Fancy Zeal book says I bad woman. Bring Lavos down. I…am not…a…bad woman! I not bad and I not dumb! I learn Guardian so you know I not dumb. I must undo! Ayla must undo!" Her blond hair went everywhere as she shook her head with great force.

She was becoming hysterical. Considering she was the strongest of the humans in the room, this was a precarious situation. Though Lucca desperately wished she hadn't lost her Zonker-38, she knew she had to calm the woman before anyone got hurt. She stood up. 

"Hey!" Lucca put her hands up defensively. "No one here thinks you're bad! And does anyone here think Ayla's dumb? Huh?" She looked around for effect "See, no one! We just told the king that so we could explain you without telling him the truth. The mission and all that." Lucca was perturbed by the fact she was not perturbed about lying to her liege, if such a thing is possible. 

What was unspoken, of course, was that if anyone had said they though her unintelligent, Ayla would have, as she so charmingly put it, 'make head go boom!' Though Ayla had not once risen, she seemed to slump further into the wall than seemed possible. She looked into space, emotionally exhausted.

All of them waited to see what she would do, and when it looked like she was going to speak, they decided to let her in total. Obviously, she spoke Guardian with difficulty, and so returned to her native language, "All you there. Red star appear in daytime, all knew it bad sign. But no shaman come to Ayla and say 'Great One angry. Red Star His warning. Great One make human, Great One make Reptite, now you try and kill each other. Stop war with Azala, or Great One bring brutal punishment.' No one tell Ayla that.

"Ayla no know what red star mean. Even if Azala know, he no make peace. He hate humans, all humans. Hanno, Ayala's father, explore other places over water, leave mother as chief. Try to find others to help us when Azala still young. Hanno come back, he tell us it all same. Reptite kill human, human kill reptite, or reptite kill reptite and human kill human. No one help Ioka, all busy hating others. But we fight. Stop fight only when dead. But Ayla no hate reptites."

Ayla's posture straightened, "Then they burn Laruba! Laruba no want fight. They hide, and still Reptites hunt them. They take Kino too. That make Ayla mad! Ayla go to Tyrano Lair with you, get Larubans, get Kino. Ayla like Kino best, all know that. But Ayla war-chief. War chief must be strong, not be fat and slow with baby. Eight summers come, eight summers go, and Ayla still strongest, still war chief. Hope one day war stop, have family with Kino. You remember, reptite, they talk, plan to eat Kino. They try take him from me! Take Ayla's hope, Ayla's future. Then Ayla hate them. Ayla want kill Azala, and all reptites. Ayla say to Kino, 'Put end to this!' And so it done. Ayla last to give into hate. Big Fire come from sky, put end to it for Ayla. Great One grant Ayla's wish. All Azala's reptites, dead, scattered. Then Ayla no want all dead, only want peace. Too late. Ioka, whole world, suffer…how Azala say, long cruel ice age. All humans suffer, all reptites die, because Ayla hate." She sighed, and slumped again.

Ever since the events at Arris, Lucca had been curious as to how Lavos had gotten its name. Lavos was a phrase in Ayla's language._ "La mean big, Vos mean fire"_ That is what Ayla had told them as the creature plummeted to earth like a gigantic meteor in the distant past, buying the Tyrano Lair, for millennia to come. At least Lucca finally had an answer as to her question.

When it seemed that Ayla had calmed some, Prometheus said, "Madam Ayla, what you said, while true, is incomplete. If the Lost Testaments are indeed true, then it was not your hatred alone that caused Lavos' arrival…"

"Ayla know, Prometheus say Ayla is straw that broke camel's back. Ayla understand, cannot image camel though." She sighed. "Still, Ayla straw. Ayla bring Lavos, so Ayla must bring death to Lavos. It only way, but all you say no. How Ayla go back to Kino then, to Ioka?" 

"Come on Ayla, it wasn't your fault! Remember right before we fought Azala and that Black Tyrano of his? I didn't understand what he said at the time: 'Though it may be our fate to perish, but we will not simply this world over to you' or something like that. I think he knew, I think he knew and didn't care. Azala sealed his people's fate, not you. And Ioka will survive no matter what," Lucca pointed out. She took the cavewoman's hand and clasped them between her own. She looked right into Ayla's eyes. "Don't live under the guilt of something you couldn't control. I know what that's like and it doesn't do a thing."

Ayla looked right back at her and took away her hands, "Lucca, you like Kino. Strong here…" she pointed to her head, "…but dummy here." She pointed at her heart. "Even if what you say true, Ayla, no leave, no run away. All help Ayla, so Ayla help all." The declaration was made with her characteristic resolve, but without the confidence.

"No, you don't have to leave; you're free to stay. But we'll be going in case something happens." Lucca pointed at herself, then the frog-man and then the robot. Her decision stood. She crossed her arms to signal this. "Your too important." 

Ayla nodded. "Okay, Ayla understand. But if Lucca and rest not win, Ayla kill bad Queen and Lavos herself. Ayla must undo, Ayla will undo." Her decision stood, though both knew that scenario was suicidal. Lucca would simply have to triumph if Crono failed. 

With the conflict resolved, Glenn spoke and brought them back to the matter at hand and to the cold reality none of them wanted to face. "Should the lad fail, it will be most difficult to triumph over such a beast. The lad hath the best of our equipment and supplies with him."

"We shall make do then." Lucca finished the discussion. Trying to lighten the mood somewhat, she turned to Prometheus, "I assume that you're responsible for that sketch over there," She pointed towards the paper still tacked to the wall. "Care to enlighten us as to how you got such a good look?"

Prometheus said, "Crono took me to do some aerial reconnaissance. We came as close to the Black Omen as possible, and then Crono flew the_ Epoch_ upside-down so that I could see our target clearly through the canopy. I did get a very precise picture of the place, but Crono insisted that we over fly it again, and again, and again. It was most exhilarating." Due to the fact that his voice was synthesized, Prometheus has almost no inflection, but the insinuation that Crono had been joyriding was painfully obvious.__

"I'd say that sounds like him." Lucca's voice had a slight chuckle in it. She could just imagine Crono had flown upside down until the blood went to his head and almost passed out. It was just like him. An awkward silence followed.

Prometheus said, "I should check the remaining equipment," then turned and walked towards the alcove where the miscellaneous equipment they had gathered in their adventures laid mostly in a heap. They were the only ones who came here so it was unlikely they had to worry about thieves. Ayla, it seemed, thought it a good idea to return to her slumber, and was asleep almost before her head came to rest against her arm. 

Without a word Glenn pulled out his old weather-beaten copy of the Testament, and began to read. Gaspar's eyes glazed over, and he drifted off to sleep, fully erect. Lucca wondered first how he could sleep like that and second what could possibly make him so tired; he seemed to nap eternally, only to be woken by the team.

Then Glenn said, "Lucca, can thee come here for but a moment?" Lucca obliged him, and sat cross-legged beside him. He closed the book.

"What's up Fog-man?" She tried to sound and look unworried and failed at both. 

"Please, milady, donna call me that. I shared mine name with thee; please use it." He paused, seeming to collect his thoughts. After a moment, he said, "You needn't worry, Lucca. Sir Crono shall succeed." There was no doubt in his voice. It was simply an assertion of fact.

Lucca responded, "Thanks for the vote of confidence. Crono would appreciate that." 

With slight exasperation, Glenn responded, "To have such a majestic mind, and yet to be so addlebrained." Lucca was taken aback, but Glenn finished his thought "It is divine providence that he should do so. He canna fail."

If the last statement took her aback, then the latest alarmed her outright. "G, Glenn, think about what you're saying…"

Glenn seemed surprised at her reaction, then smiled as much as frog lips would allow. "Four hundred years thenceforth mine own time, and suggesting divine providence shall still be tantamount to blasphemy." He chuckled slightly, with an undeniable likeness to a croak.

It seemed so utterly wrong. Lucca, the scientist, should be making the quasi-heretical remarks, not the noble knight of yesteryear. "'Did not our Lord give thee free will? Did he not make thee free? Claim not the hand of God in the affairs of men, lest He take up with thine enemies to spite thee. The Lord moves upon the world of man, but only at His choosing. The Lord is master of all, not like a dog that comes obediently when summoned. Invoke his name, and risk his wrath,' Horatio 4:7 through 9. We learn that in Sunday school. You don't attribute things to God because man doesn't know His will."

Glenn chuckled some more, "I canna help but think thee dense."

Now that was something Lucca did not like. She spoke civilly, but just barely, "Hey man, I think you'd better take that back."

Glenn put up his hands in mock defense. "Relax, my lady, and let us parley then." After Lucca grudgingly nodded her head, Glenn continued, "Thee said thyself, that the Gates are not the work of Lavos."

"True."

"Thee also spoketh of the gate that defied all precedent in the Great Forrest."

"Yeah."

"That gate taketh thee from the center of the isle Porria to the isle Obachi, wherein thee hath residence, and to the very night whence thine mother had been destined to be crippled, in front of thine eyes as a wee lass." 

Lucca thought about this, as she had before. "So I got to save Mom's legs, how does that prove divine intervention?"

At this, Glenn clasped his gloved hands over his face and sighed in utter exasperation. "This is why the Lord maketh miracles so rarely. Mortal men then become accustomed to them." He removed his hands and looked at Lucca with those bulging eyes that still creeped her out "I canna think of an act more benevolent than the opportunity to right our pasts. Such mercy, I think, could only be bestowed by Him who reigns above."

"Well, if that was true, why haven't you been given the chance to save Cyrus? I mean, why me, and not you?"

"Because those who are called by the Lord are given what they desire most. The Liaison, Heyzeus Yule, wanted a reversal of the moral decay in the Vayan Empire, for Clovis, the rule of Caroline, for Arthur, the union of Camelot, for Constance, the rule of Vay. And so it was with George the Guardian. Remember, he marched his Guards from Porre knowing they could never return to Veyan lands except in chains…"

Lucca interrupted him, "Yeah, I remember this story. I believe St. Luc, my namesake if you couldn't guess, put it like this, 'More than anything, that most noble of Guardians expressed the desire for the preservation of the kingdom that he had founded, that his Vayan Guards should not squabble with the Acacian tribes of Zenan, that both his Truces should not be undone.' Clever pun, I might add. So he turned and told Luc that if his forces defeated the legions of Julius Octavius, he would convert the whole kingdom to Liaisonism. Of course, our troops being 'vicious and manly Acacians' and being led by former Guards, and Guards being the elite of the Vayan armies, the legions were crushed at Kurova, just north of the Zenan straights. And so Guardia became a Liaisonist nation the following day in A.D 28. So what's your point? You think that Gate was God's way of paying me?"

Glenn's mouth turned into something that resembled an approving smile, "Mercenaries and volunteers always hath gold in their pockets before the battle commences. In this quest, we have all gotten our desires. Your mother stands on her own feet. I hath made mine kingdom, and mine queen, safe from the Magus and ultimately, my desire to see Cyrus restored is not so great in comparison. Prometheus hath discovered his own soul, whatever it constitutes. By rendering us assistance, Ayla redeems her name, though it may be some time before she recognizes it. The Magus wisheth nothing more than to see Lavos die. Crono, like Cyrus, hath shown himself a most noble hero, as was his wish in childhood, and the princess, well, I no not what her desire be, but I suspect it is the love of a good man, and that man be Crono."

Glenn's words hurt Lucca far more than they should have. Why did they feel like a knife in her gut? There was no logical reason. She kept her voice steady as she asked, "Do you really think so?"

Glenn shrugged, "Perhaps it was the reconciliation with her father that was her desire. Lady Marle is hardly a hateful woman, and only the hateful seek not resolution when they bicker with kin. Tis a shame that it took a usurping Mystic to bring it about, but I suppose, as thee would say, 'It's all good.'"

Again, Lucca's guts reacted in ways her mind could not understand. It was like the knife had been pulled out and a tonic sprinkled on the gut wound, healing it without so much as a scar. 

Lucca looked down in thought. She finally understood Glenn's reasoning, though she was in doubt, partly because of her willfulness that it wasn't the case. In the Liaisonist tradition, all the examples he gave were true, but only Constance and Clovis had lived much beyond their 'service' in converting the nations. Heyzeus Yule had been crucified, and it took 315 years before Vay, under Constance, would become Liaisonist. Arthur had killed and been killed by his bastard son, and King George I had died from his wounds within a week of Kurova. God delivered on His end, but no more. Those men all got what they wanted, but they could still die. Lucca would have considered it a rather cruel joke if her comrades should receive what they wanted, but not live to enjoy them.

"You make sense, noble sir. And if true, this is great. If God is on our side, who can stand against us, right?" Lucca sounded hopeful, though she wished God was less austere, and would guarantee their survival as well as their success. 

"I am glad I hath convinced you." He yawned, which considering the size of his mouth, almost made Lucca sick. "I shall retire, and make ready for battle should the need arise. I hope in my slumber Crono and Marle shall return alive and well, as I too count them among my friends. Unless you need anything more, I take my leave."

"No, go ahead, sleep tight." Lucca said evenly. She was kind of tired as well. She remembered reading that soldiers leaned to sleep whenever and in whatever position they could, and this fact seemed to bear out with her group. After a few minutes, Glenn was asleep, and because Prometheus was out of sight, Lucca was effectively alone for a few minutes, and her eyelids grew heavy.

"Young lady, might I have a moment of your time?" Gaspar spoke, jarring Lucca's nerves. After she had confirmed that her eyelids had not frozen in the bulging position, she went over too him.

"You wanted to talk to me?" she asked.

He did not look directly at her, as was his custom of never looking at anyone directly. He never turned or lifted his head, which Lucca found curious. "Why, yes. I wanted to ask you if you were no longer a fugitive from justice."

"Why do you ask?"

"Well, it seems to me that you will have to tell your king the truth about what you've been doing. Even though you and Crono did save the kingdom by exposing Yarka XIII, you both have multiple capital offense charges against you, unless your king has pardoned both of you."

"That's all true, so what's your point?"

"My point, is that in his position, I would be reluctant to believe such a fantastic story, such as the one you will have to tell. If I were in your shoes, I would gather proof that I was telling the truth."

It hit her like a ton of bricks. "Oh, crap! You're right! Okay, what would be convincing proof?"

"Well, in Zeal, the best proof was testimonial. I'd get some of the people you've helped and have them speak on my behalf to the king. Of course, you're free to do whatever you like. It's simply my suggestion."

Lucca quickly thought about it and decided that Gaspar was right. If anyone else had suggested it, she would have immediately accepted, but she did not trust Gaspar, always suspecting he had an ulterior motive of some kind.

"No, I like it. What's the catch?"

"The 'catch,' is that the future you are trying to prevent is in peril. If Crono succeeds, it will be erased along with someone there who can help you…"

"Doan?"

"Very astute of you. And before you ask, the 'Wings of Time' is back in the docking port. I would advise against delay."

"Thanks. Say, why are you helping us? What do you get out of this?" Lucca could not help but ask; she wanted to know for quite some time.

He politely reproached her, "So suspicious. Don't you think I care if that thing destroys the world? Just because my people suffered horrendously doesn't mean I'm indifferent towards the perils of future generations. If you and your friends can destroy Lavos, it shall be payment enough for me."

Lucca, despite her healthy cynicism of humanity, believed him. "Oh, uh okay. We won't let you down! But, uh I better go and get Doan. I'll just, uh, drop him off at my house and come back," She said while walking towards the Epoch. She felt a bit sheepish; why shouldn't she trust Gaspar? After all, he had never _lied_ to them before. 

She walked down the stairs to the port, where indeed, the Epoch stood. The canopy was open, so she climbed into the cockpit and powered up the time and flight circuits. She didn't engage, but just slouched back into the chair, then turned and looked in the back seat. It was supposed to hold two, but sometimes, they had crammed in three. On most of these last missions, she'd flown transport, shuttling the whole team from the End of Time to wherever they were going. She didn't even know one could develop nostalgia so fast. A few days ago everything felt safe; the kind of safe that comes at the center of a typhoon, but safe nonetheless.

_It took us eight months to save the world. Or a least try to. It's like we've taken an eight month holiday from reality, so what's going to happen when this whole thing is over? Shit, eight months ago, I knew exactly what I was gonna do: present Telepod; win Noble Prize in Physics with Dad, go to whatever top university I wanted. 'Why should we admit you here, Miss Ashtear?' 'I got a Noble Prize sucka!' Hee hee. Can't do that know though, it would be unethical. How was I supposed to know that? _

_What about Prometheus? If he's not in the new future, he's gone. But then again, if he's not, who will we meet after the jailbreak? Or rather who did we meet after the jailbreak in the new timeline? Anyway, using Marle's example, when you change history and stay in a past time, it takes awhile for the effect to erase you from existence. It took two days in 600 A.D. before she was erased, more or less, which leaves us with slightly more than 200 years per day. So if Prometheus is going to get erased, but stays in 1000 A.D. with a thirteen hundred year discrepancy, it's going to take…a little less than six and a half days before it happens. Course, on the other hand, 65 mil divided by 200 plus ten and a half is…gimme a sec…325,010 and one half days or…little less than a thousand years. Damn him, why won't he go there? He's going to go back to the future no matter what, stupid, stubborn, metalhead. I can't change his mind, and I don't know what I'm gonna do! "The wise man is the one who knows he truly knows nothing."_ _I hate Sewcrates. Oh well, no rest for the weary. _

Lucca closed the canopy and engaged the engines. At least she could get the Black Omenoff her mind for a while. After all, idle hands are the Adversary's playground and the idle mind makes for a worrywart…


	3. Paradigm Shift

Author's note: 01- 16-03 Well, it's been a longtime coming (Damn you Vice City!), but here it is, my third chapter. It's huge! I don't know how I did it! I never meant for this to become the frickin monster it's become! These first three chapters were supposed to be a kind of prologue to my real story, but damn! How am I ever going to get this done? Simple: I hate unfinished stories, and I refuse to be a hypocrite! You might venture to guess that I'm modeling Guardia on something else, and you'd be right. But, the modeling makes sense. At least I think so. I don't consider this AU, but if you want to, be my guest. Reviews are highly appreciated! One more thing: Buckeyes Rule! We're #1! We're #1! Yeah baby! Now, on with the show…

Paradigm Shift

End of Time

Parallel time: October 29th 1000 A.D. 5:46 PM

"I told you once young lady, my visions are blocked. I don't know what's going on any more than you do."

Slightly more than twenty-five minutes before, Gaspar, using magic Lucca had hitherto never seen, projected images of the changing past onto the courtyard wall. With frightening clarity, Lucca and her companions had seen Lavosian energies consume the Black Omen. Slightly less than five minutes before that, Gaspar had informed them that the Mammon Machine, that cancerous heart of the Ocean Palace, had finally been destroyed in battle, and then the queen had been mortally wounded shortly thereafter. 

The queen, before her passing, did find time to summon Lavos from the core of the Earth, and the Black Omen was subsequently consumed by dark magics. Lucca wondered how Crono and company had survived it all, but Gaspar said they had. Now they had Lavos to face, and after the ordeals they had certainly faced in the Omen, she questioned if they had enough strength to finish the job.

In Lucca's adventures there had been many battles; battles that seemed to stretch time, ones that seemed to take grueling hours to complete, but actually fought in a matter of minutes. Lucca knew this, but had nonetheless been flabbergasted as she had timed the events as Gaspar spoke. Those battles with the Gaia Gaia defender on Mt. Woe, Azala and his Black Tyrano, Mother Brain, Yarka XIII, even that titanic battle with the Magus, none of them had taken more than ten minutes to complete. 

This knowledge turned her stomach. The full horrific swiftness of battle and that razor thin edge between the last second of life, and the first second of death, which had always been obvious to her, finally registered in that part of her mind Dr. Fraud called the id. She was frightened; she knew just how precarious Crono's position was, and if something happened to him, she would never be able to forgive herself.

Lucca sighed in frustration; she was getting angry. "Listen Gaspar! Okay, normally I wouldn't ask you a direct question, I know better. But I really need to know this: is Crono all right? It's been…" she looked at her watch, "…twenty-three minutes since the Omen finished disintegrating. I need to know if he, if they, need help!"

Gaspar seemed to get upset at this "I can only tell you what I know. They were all relatively healthy, though absolutely saturated with residual healing magic, when they destroyed the Mammon Machine and defeated the queen!" He sighed, "At least now the poor woman can rest…"

Lucca curtly snapped, "Forgive me if I don't give a flying fuck about that murderous bitch! I want to know, how's Crono?" Lucca hardly considered herself a lady, but it took quite a bit to rile her into spewing such foul profanities.

Gaspar seemed to seethe at that remark, "That 'murderous bitch' was my queen…"

"…Who sold you and the rest of your kingdom down river for a shot at eternal life!" 

"Enough!" Glenn interceded; this was no time for internecine struggles. "Enough! Both of you! Lucca, thine remarks were most uncalled for, and Gaspar, please remember her closest friends currently have their lives in peril! So can ye please tell us how our confederates fare?"

Gaspar did not look at him. He said flatly, "All I know is that Lavos is summoning every reserve of power he has in order to defeat them. There are only two ways in which we will know the outcome…"

"They'll kill Lavos and be ejected back here, or the Lavosian energies will rescind, which means they're all dead! Unacceptable!" Lucca pointed at a nearby bucket "We can't even use the goddamn bucket because they're fighting Lavos in 12,000 B.C! Great plan Crono! We can't use the Epoch because it would be destroyed getting us there! So we're stuck here! This is unbelievable!" Lucca exclaimed as she ran her left hand through her now uncovered brown hair, which was becoming moist with sweat. 

"Sometimes life is not how we wish it to be…" said Gaspar.

Lucca screamed in impotent rage.

Glenn spun her around, "Be calm, Lady Lucca; we can only wait and see."

Lucca shook her head "Ahh! You're right, you're right…" She breathed to calm herself. Flaring tempers weren't good for anyone, but how could she think when her best friend was in danger and she could do nothing? 

Clearing her head was difficult; she was so hot. Even for a Guardian, she had a freakish tolerance for cold, no doubt a result of her family living in the sub-arctic taiga of eastern Zenan for centuries on end. This was helpful in dealing with the frigid and windy climates of Zealean and post-apocalyptic Guardia, where she took the weather in stride. She was fine with heat as long as she properly ventilated. As a consequence, as soon as the snows melted, she wore shorts and loose clothing as often as possible. She hated armor that covered her legs; it was stuffy and she would begin to sweat profusely.

She wore a suit that her father had given her for her defense. The Ashtears, not the greatest at monikers, called it the 'Taban Suit.' Lucca could move easily in it, it was lightweight, and flame resistant. The suit was a two-piece body suit, and Lucca had taken to wearing the top half under her clothes, a good idea in general. But the pant bottom half was fully exposed from waist to tanned leather boot, its undyed cloth covering contrasting with orange jerkin, contrasting with the bright rainbow hues of the group's last Prism Helm. 

It was an abjectly ugly combination, but it worked. In all the books she had ever seen with illustrations of armors, whether cheap romances or histories, they were at least as aesthetically pleasing as they were functional. It gave Lucca perverted pleasure knowing her appearance at that moment was such a sharp contrast to what would be expected in a sweeping and heroic epic, such as the one she seemed to be living. It reminded her that life was, thankfully, not as the Romantics envisioned it. Romanticism…in her opinion, it was a genre incapable of producing anything but drek. Yet somehow, it had been the dominant artistic genre for most of the 10th Century. It was over blown, over dramatic, over contrived, overly fanciful, and yet civilized world, the highest level to which humanity had yet ascended, ate that shit up. Her tastes were more in the parodies of say, the Arlandian satirist Samuel Longhorn. Love, Lucca decided, must indeed be strange, for though he disliked unbridled Romanticism, Crono was with Marle, whose outlook on life was hopelessly Romantic…

Crono; he was in danger. Lucca had to stay focused, not let the anxiety get to her. She looked over herself. With her Wondershot slug on her shoulder, she was ready. Glenn had the legendary Masamune broadsword at his side. His Lode Shield lay near his feet and his ever-present Lode Vest had never left his torso. That left the robot. 

She looked over at Prometheus who had just finished equipping his 'Crisis' arm onto his body. "Hey, you ready trashcan?"

His head swiveled so his optical sensors focused directly on hers. "More ready than you, meatbag!" 

Lucca ready wished he could smile, so that she could better appreciate his joking remarks.

Lucca gasped mockingly. "Oh, such remarks from a protocol robot! My word, what is the world coming to?" 

"Madam Lucca, no robot, no matter how well programmed, can indefinitely endure such verbal abuse and must therefore lash out from time to time."

"Oh, blow it out your exhaust pipe!"

Ayla just watched this silently, "Future people strange." She muttered to herself. Then again, Iokan warriors could do some pretty strange things to mentally prepare themselves for battle…

"Gaspar!"

Gaspar's legs had suddenly given way, and he hit the ground, hard. The four others rushed to help him, but he struggled to his feet, and was almost on them when the others got to him. Lucca asked first "What happened?!"

Gaspar steadied himself with his cane, readjusted his derby. His words sounded shell shocked "I, I don't believe it."

"What?" Lucca asked.

"He's dead."

_Well, that's reeeal helpful, _Lucca thought to herself. _Please, let the 'he' be Lavos…or Magus… _

Gaspar continued, "Lavos…is dead. Our world, our world is now safe from him."

Lucca was smiled at bit, before she thought of her friends' fate. "What about the others?"

"I don't know young lady, but they will be here shortly."

Lucca put her hand to her chin and considered her course of action for a second. Then she spoke, "All right, everyone listen up! Get to the wall fast; we don't want them falling on top of us. Glenn, Prometheus, Cure Wave a soon as they get here. Understood?"

They all acknowledged her orders then made haste to the wall. Within a few seconds, they heard the 'barong' sound of a gate being opened. From someplace up above, Crono, Marle and the Magus fell to the ground prostrate by the 'Day of Lavos' bucket, along with a phenomenal amount of phlegmic material, which coated them and much of the surrounding floor.

"Oh, shit!" Lucca exclaimed in surprise, as she certainly hadn't expected them to come back like that. "Okay, Glenn, Prometheus: check to make sure they're breathing!" She ran over to Crono, almost slipping in the lavender-green gunk, not realizing she hadn't said who should check whom. She just had to make sure Crono wasn't drowning in the disgusting stuff. It was almost nauseating.

Crono laid head down, katana in hand above his head. Lucca flipped him over in short order; his sword fell out of hands and made a soft clattering sound that faintly echoed. He was unconscious, but breathing. His face was scratched and bruised, but that was nothing a good Cure spell or midtonic couldn't cure. 

"Thank God," she sighed. She began nudging Crono. "Hey, Crono. Crono. Come on, man, speak to me. Come on!"

Lucca was about to accuse him of being a lazy ass, when he groaned and regained consciousness. He blinked and slowly looked around, then straight at Lucca. Somewhat dazed, he asked "Did…did we actually kill him this time?"

She lifted his head a little bit and wiped the residual gunk off with the bottom of her jerkin. "Yeah. You killed Lavos, at least Gaspar says you did." She did a playful punch on his shoulder, only just touching it; in her experience, punching armor stung. She smiled at him,"Ya did good kid. But…uh, what do you mean 'did we kill him this time?' Did he come back to life or something?"

"Uh, Lucca, it was terrible. First we thought we killed it, on the outside. But it was just a shell!" Lucca was shocked; then chided herself. After all, it couldn't be simple; it could NEVER be simple. She rotated her right hand as if to say 'go on' and that is what Crono did. "So we climbed inside, and wouldn't know it? Lavos was all hollow. There was this big…monster creature in the center of it, and then we hacked off its arms and beat it to a pulp in short order. So it should have been over, right?"

"I suppose." Lucca said. She looked over at the sound of someone hurling. Glenn was kneeling over the princess. He shoved his hands under the rainbow hued plating of the Prism Dress, and thrust his hands into her stomach. This action was followed by Marle vomiting the phlemic stuff out in lesser and lesser quantities. 

"No! Then, the monster disappeared, and then, there was this thing, it was…bipedal, but its head looked like a…Picish terrier in a fishbowl, and it had with it these little…floating acorns…yeah, that's what they looked like, and all the while, it felt like we were fighting in a gate, and we could see, bits and pieces of each time periods. We used up all the Megaexilirs, I think all of the Exilirs, but I'm not sure. Anyway, it took us forever to kill this, uh, Lavos essence, 'cause one of those damn acorns kept reviving the fishbowl thing. So we ganged up and killed the acorn, after killing the others, then the whole place, wherever it was, just, ruptured, there was this awful roar, then boom! I thought we were gonna die. Or fight another form, which would be the same thing. Then I woke up here. We are back at the End of Time, aren't we?"

"Well, where else could you be?" Lucca asked rhetorically as she smiled.

Crono thought about it for a couple seconds. "Well, this could be Heaven, but then I'd have to say I'm rather disappointed in the quality of the angels." He gave her a knowing grin. "That, and I'm too sore to be dead." 

Lucca was less than pleased. "You know, if I wasn't so happy that you were alive, I'd kill you right now?" But as the humor registered, her face was forced to smile. 

The grin became positively shit eating. "That's what I like about you, Lucca, you're frisky." He dryly chuckled.

Lucca rolled her eyes, "Oh God above…why can't you be quiet with me? You're less obnoxious when you keep your mouth shut."

"Well, if I weren't obnoxious, I'd have no personality at all." Crono rattled off without a thought.

"That's precisely the point. You're so damn irritating sometimes." She yanked her hand out from under Crono's head, the Prism Helm sliding off with it. The Helm hit the floor with a quiet clang, the head with a thud cushioned by thick hair. Crono groaned. 

"Touché."He wrinkled his nose, "Uh, Lucca, what's that smell? Uh, I thought I was imagining it before, but it's making me sick."

"I dunno, you came in with it. It's greenish, and it looks and feels a lot like snot, and you're covered in it."

Crono, obviously, was less than pleased. "Wonderful. Blood. Sounds like Lavos' blood, or whatever passes for it. Never stunk like this, though." He had a realization, and sprung to his feet as fast as his shaky legs and heavy armor would allow. "Lucca, where's Marle? Is she all right? Blast it all! It just strikes me now," he said as he looked around in the wrong direction. 

Lucca put her hands on Crono's shoulders. "Hey, Lover Boy, it's okay. People are allowed to forget things after…smiting, big, evil, monster things. Anyway, she's right over there." She pointed over his shoulder.

"Oh, thanks, Lucca." She turned around, still a little disoriented. He almost slipped in the gunk, but managed to keep his footing, and made his way to Marle. He leaned over her, as she coughed a few times. Lucca walked over as well.

Marle fluttered her eyes a bit and groaned something like "Ouchies." Then she looked at Crono, and asked him, "Did we do it?"

Crono just smiled and nodded his head.

"Yippie!" Marle said, as she grabbed Crono around the neck and brought her torso up to Crono's in a big hug. Crono had to support this extra burden entirely, though he didn't seem to mind and hugged her around the waist, lifting her up in one thrust, his body followed. The hero and the princess stood fully erect; they released each other, knowing what was coming next. 

Crono removed his right glove, and then gently used his exposed hand to caress his lover's face, which Glenn had already cleaned. His left arm went around her waist, then they embraced. The whole world seemed to slip away, leaving just the man and the woman, together, in each other's arms. Crono gently tilted Marle's head, her lips quivering ever so slightly in anticipation. There lips seemed come together in so motions, and then became one in that sweet kiss of True Love.

Of course this seemed to take forever to Lucca for entirely different reasons. It seemed obnoxious to her, and that she could accept. They had almost just been killed, they were tired and bruised, but they still could pull off a Carolinian kiss for the record books. But it also made her feel hollow, and maybe, just a little bit sad. Lucca would have smacked herself if she had been in private. She made note that though their armors were battered, Crono was dashing in his black Moon armor, Marle was radiant in her Prism Dress, and the gunk had given it all such a sheen, that the scene was, picture perfect.

Marle sounded sickly sweet to Lucca's ears as she softly whispered, "Crono, we did it. We saved it; we saved everything. You're a true hero, my hero." Crono said nothing, but simply beamed. They stared lovingly at each other.

_Clap! Clap! Clap!_

Everyone turned their attention from the lovers to the clapper, the Magus. Prometheus's heal beam was barely audible as its green light permeated Magus's flesh with medical nanomachines. He was completely clean of the gunk, which meant he had used magic to clean himself or that slimes of different types repelled each other. He smiled wickedly. 

"Oh, I wish I had had the luxury of being young and in love. Of course, stupidity of that magnitude was usually followed by a horrific death by something or other."

Lucca was sure, by the sound of her voice, that Marle was pouting, "Well, I'm glad you're alive too Magus." _That makes one of you_, Lucca thought. "But tell me, why do you always have to be such a meanie?" In the meantime, Lucca had switched her position so that she could she the faces of all the talking parties. She noticed Glenn was tense, and glanced over at the Magus warily. 

The Magus put his gloved right hand over his mouth and chuckled, then looked straight at the princess, "If you have to ask, you'll never understand. Of course, not understanding is something that comes very easily to you, my dear princess."

Marle looked around, then found Lucca and asked her, "Lucca, what did he just say?"

"Essentially, he enjoys 'raining on your parade,' proverbially speaking, and he thinks you're an idiot."

"I thought so." She turned to the Magus, "Mister, I will have you know that I am NOT an idiot! Isn't that right Crono?" She turned to Crono and looked at him with a sweet smile that screamed 'if you don't agree with me, I will make you a eunuch.' Crono obliged her, and nodded his head confidently.

At this, the Magus' body began to convulse. Snorts escaped his mouth, but he regained his composure. "That, my dear, is such a bold face lie, that were I not so exhausted, I would roll on the ground, clutching my sides in utter guffaw."

Glenn entered the fray, "Villain! Insult not the descendant of His Majesty and fair Queen Leene!"

The Magus looked at Glenn. "It's bad form for a knight to insult his allies, Sir Frog, Retainer of the Queen. Besides, I mean her no harm, I simply had to stop that spectacle, or I might have wretched my guts onto the floor and I think it's already messy enough. Don't you?" His words were saturated with contempt.

Glenn's gaze became steely, but it would have more effective had they been human eyes. "Villain, I speak for the last time. Hold thy tongue or I shall remove it."

Such exchanges of words were not uncommon, and it was uncertain whether Glenn would take advantage of the Magus' weakness and try and slay him once and for all. Nonetheless, Gaspar thought it best to intervene.

"Excuse me, young ones!" He shouted, but not move his head. "If it does not trouble you, I would like you to gather round. I wish to speak to you." Somewhat warily, the group stopped its bickering, and made a half circle around the man and the light post. "Now that all of the pleasantries have been dwelt with, I want to thank you all. I know it isn't much to have an old man's gratitude, but know that survivors of Zeal, if they knew of your actions today, would be forever grateful. Not simply Zeal, but all the lesser nations of our…ahem, my time; they would never allow your memories to falter, if they were allowed to know. You have avenged us, slain our destructor. It is fitting that creature destroyed my world and did not long survive its rampage."

"It was our pleasure!" Marle squealed gleefully. She then groaned and grabbed the side of her head, as if her high-pitched voice had jarred something loose.

Before anyone else could speak, Gaspar made a gesture for quiet, "Now that Lavos is no more, you must return whence you came. The Gates are already growing weak, and soon, the only avenue of time travel will be Belthasar's 'Wings of Time,' a precarious position indeed. Finish your business, divide your spoils, and return home victorious. But do not speak of this affair; the stability of the new timeline, whatever form it takes, depends on your silence. Go now, time is short."

All of them silently nodded, and walked to the alcove where most of their stuff laid. It was not a long process. Ayla took some furs and some charms that protected against the cold; her people were going to need it. The other members took a few trinkets, but most of it was declared collective property of the three from A.D. 1000. Almost before they had started, Crono and Marle had left the others, and sat on the floor, backs braced against the wall, holding hands, but really too tired even to talk. The others save Magus had agreed to load the Epoch with the stuff that they didn't want.

Lucca had taken the opportunity to change clothes, and was back in her normal ensemble, but not before she noted that the Magus had declined to take the Zealean currency. Ducrats were still being used in the aftermath of the end of that world, and the team had enough so that one could live quite comfortably for a while in that era. 

The Magus had begun to walk away, into the Pillar room. Each of the nine pillars of white, bluish light connected to a different Gate. If Lucca had to make good on her undelivered promise to her King, she would rather do it at the End of Time, than chasing the mage all over Guardia of the Middle Ages.

She ran up behind him and called out to him. He did not answer. Magus had a nasty tendency of ignoring the others unless it suited his purposes. When Lucca brought her Wondershot to bear, pumping a shell into the firing chamber with an audible _chugh-chugh!_, even the great Magus had to pay her heed. He stopped, and said nothing, nor did he turn and face her, or the end of her gun.

"Do you know what the difference between me and Glenn is?" Lucca asked quickly. "See, Glenn has this problem about killing people in cold blood. I don't."

At this Magus did turn around. In a completely serious tone he said, "I thought the difference between you two was that Glenn likes boys and you don't." Lucca might very well have killed him that instant, but for the fact that the Wondershot's recoil was so bad that even at this range she might miss him. That would be bad because he was quick, and would likely be on her before she could reload. 

Her anger had not gone unnoticed. Magus gave a contemptuous chuckle and sighed. He said, "Relax, Lucca. Don't think I haven't seen you sizing up young men at the inns like so much cheap meat. It's the exact look some of my more, voracious, mystics gave to captured knights before our dinner feasts. I think, though, you desire to consume something much different from what they did." So Poetic, yet so perverted."I've noticed that among you all, that there seems to be a lacking in a sense of humor. I make jokes, but nobody laughs but me. Perhaps I'm simply too easily amused." 

"It's tactless to insult someone with a gun pointed at you." Lucca said, "Of course, I doubt your mother had time to teach you manners, what with her being both the queen and the court whore." She flashed a wicked grin. If he was going to a bastard, she would be a bitch. "What a career woman." Pouring salt on wounds was so much fun.

If he was angry, he did an impeccable job of hiding it. "This conversation bores me. What do want?"

Lucca's smile lessened. "I don't really care where you go, but you're not going back to 600."

"And, tell me, why should my decision rest on your desires?"

"Because if you don't, you'll find yourself headless, courtesy of 12-gauge buckshot, hyper-accelerated by Sun Stone to about 951 miles an hour, give or take. Did you know the Wondershot is the only Shotgun in existence where the pellets break the sound barrier? Ain't science great?"

Magus looked at her, "Lucca, you are a fool, so let me be clear. I know nothing of your pathetic 'firearms' nor do I need to. Furthermore, I have no intention of ever returning to your pathetic kingdom, in any era. I hate Guardia: it's climate, it's food, your goddamned language. Now that I have no need for the knowledge of the Mystics, I have no reason to ever go back. And I sincerely hope that the Enlightened moved out of 'Acacia,' because it would be a shame if noble Zeal sired such a worthless race as yours."

"Hey! Two Acacians just destroyed the greatest threat humanity's yet known. And never, never, forget it was **I** who figured out how to use the Gates. I invented the Telepod; I repaired a robot from 1,300 years in the future. So don't you dare badmouth my people! Zeal died, while Guardia thrives!"

Magus sneered, as if his façade were slowly cracking. "Your arrogance blinds you, so let me show you light. You think you're so smart, but you're not; if you were, then you would realize one thing." He extended his index finger near his face. "The sun is the most potent force that we shall ever see in mortal life; yet it has yet to burn away a field, or destroy a house, something that the tiniest spark can do. Your inventions, as I am told, blow up in your face, and after seeing you with that 'shotgun' of yours, I can see why. That gun is far too powerful for a little girl like you. Power is useless unless you can control it, direct it, command it to your will. I know spells far more fierce than Dark Matter, yet that spell remains the strongest in my repertoire, because those other spells might do more harm to me than to my enemies.

"And Lucca, I want you to take a good long look, here and now." He made an expansive gesture, "Notice the lack of celebration, jubilation. It's not because you're weary; you didn't do any fighting, I did. It's because you and your friends have no vested interest in Lavos' destruction. Lavos did you no harm until you went looking for it. Each one of you could have lived out your lives in peace, dying in your beds as old men and women, long before the end of your world. Even the longest-lived Zealot only made it to 360. No, you did have reasons, but your reasons are shallow: you went after that creature to satisfy your sense of aesthetics. You couldn't accept the inevitable. Death comes to all things, and when you saw your world end, you were reminded of that fact. Your juvenile fear of your mortality led you on this fool's crusade. But you will not save yourselves; you will still die."

"But we never expected such a thing," Lucca retorted.

Magus ignored her. "You didn't save Guardia either. Zeal lasted for 2,500 years, as a floating kingdom for the last 800. Zeal died, so shall Guardia. In a different time, in a different way, but Guardia will pass from the earth nonetheless. On that day, your people will sit on their ruins, as did we, as did the Vayans, as did a hundred thousand other peoples, and weep for all that was lost. When the merchants wept at the death of the Whore of Babbleon in Endings, they said things that where said before, and are destined to said again. 'Never again will trade commence, nor industry flourish in the walls of Kajar,'" he said, paraphrasing Endings. 

"Remember Christopher's words: 'But this one portion of man's demise, ultimately, is of little consequence…' That is, of course, if you believe that Liaisonist tripe. But man will die. How much time did we buy here, huh? A hundred years, a thousand years, but what then? Will you go there and change time again? Then again? I think you will, because you're a group of busybodies."

"Oh, busybodies, huh?" Lucca was naturally irritated, in part because there was a measure of truth in the wizard's words. "So tell me, great wizard, is revenge somehow more noble than our concern for the future of our people? And who are you to take the moral high ground, murderer? You traitor to the Human race." Neither of them noticed that everyone else had been drawn towards them.

Magus responded, "I don't claim any morals, but your pathetic band does. And if one is to have morals, one should take care not to impede justice. That is what Lavos was; a divine punishment from God, and in our Testaments, there was never any mention of mankind's salvation from its doom. It might very possible that today we have angered God; we have destroyed His plans and you know how temperamental He can be." 

Before Lucca could ask the inevitable, Magus said, "For my part, I don't care what God, or anyone else thinks. My motivation was pure: Lavos wronged me, so I set out to kill it. If God wanted me to cooperate in His plans, He should have given me a better lot in life. If I destroyed the world to achieve my goal, so be it, and if I helped the world in killing Lavos, so much the better. If I suffer at His hands, I have done my life's work, and I am happy in that. As for where I will go now, I really don't know." He looked towards Gaspar and the light post. "Hey old man! You've seen more of time than any of us. Where is the best place to live?"

Unbeknownst to Lucca, something in Gaspar snapped. He said, "Young man, that is up to you. But would you be interested to know that your sister survived the Ocean Palace disaster?"

Magus walked up to the man. "Gaspar, I am no fool. Nothing could have survived that, unless they had Lavos' help. I have no use for false hopes. Now answer my question."

"I'm not lying. Your sister did not die when Zeal fell, nor did she perish when the Black Omen was destroyed."

The Magus looked straight at him, "Assume that I believe you. Where is she?"

Gaspar's tone was flat, "It doesn't matter, you'll never see her again."

The wizard's expression became one of displeasure "Do not toy with me, old man. I am not one to be trifled with."

"It is not wise for the tongue to endanger the body." Gaspar said evenly, even as it seemed a confrontation was immanent.

"Uh, Lucca…" Lucca heard a female voice behind her. Her whole body shook from shock. She turned around and saw that Marle had patted her shoulder. She wanted to scream at Marle for sneaking up on her, but the princess probably either couldn't understand, or wouldn't listen to her. Then she would say Lucca was being silly.

"Oh, Lucca, what did Gaspar say?" Marle was concerned. Even to her, it was clear Gaspar was picking a fight.

Half in shock herself, Lucca said, "I think he was saying the Zealean version of 'Don't let your mouth get your ass kicked.'"

They looked back over, and saw the argument end as the Magus' scythe flew into his hand from where he had dropped it after his arrival. "Okay, Guru, if you will not tell me willingly…" 

Before he could strike Gaspar, a gust of hurricane wind flew through the End of Time. The Magus was picked off his feet and was deposited on the courtyard wall, where he fell to the ground, right into the gunk, his scythe clattered on the ground, far beyond his reach. In the instant, everyone's eyes turned towards the man by the light pole. His derby had been knocked off, and his eyes were bloodshot, his once passive, even kindly face, was now contorted into a snarl. He looked so full of hatred and contempt towards the mage, that Lucca wouldn't have been surprised if Gaspar's visage alone killed the Magus. All were silent, waiting for him to do something.

"Shut up." He said silently. Extending his arms forward, and placing his left hand in his right, he chanted a few sort phases: a Lock spell that rendered the mage impotent in magic. "You used to be so quiet, remember, young prince?"

"How dare you! Attacking me, after all I've done…" The mage tried to retort as he climbed to his knees, ready to pounce on the old man.

With the speed and grace of men decades his junior, Gaspar quickly walked over to the Magus. Gaspar's cane popped out of his hand, only to be caught at the base, and it's brass handle crushed into the Magus' face just below the left eye. Tiny dibbles of blood splattered onto Gaspar's mustache. 

"Shut the fuck up, and listen to your elders! You impudent brat! I've had enough of your condescending shit!" He kicked the Magus in the ribs, eliciting a groan from the prostate man. "You think you're such a bad ass, don't you child." He laughed cruelly, "I grew up in Kajar's Coalan district, and let me tell you; you would last all of ten minutes there at night. A minute for a gang to spot you, a minute to drag you into a dark alley, and eight to bleed you dry. You're a punk, a bum! That's all you are."

Gaspar composed himself somewhat, then continued, "You call these noble children 'busybodies'?" He pointed at the three from 1000, Lucca on the right, Crono behind her on the left and Marle in between. "Janus, I'm never going to tell you where your sister is. Do you know why? DO YOU KNOW WHY?!" 

"Oh temper, temper…of course I'm not surprised; poor, Earthbound trash always revels itself." The Magus wheezed, still on the ground, trying to gather his bearings, so he could smite the offending Guru.

Gaspar would have none of it. He yanked the prince off the ground by the crimson cloak fastened around his neck. "You little cunt rag!" Gaspar slammed the other man into the wall. "I should kill you right now! How dare you call me, ME, an Earthbound?! My family was dirt poor, but goddamnit, we were Enlightened, and don't you ever forget that!" A painful looking punch to the Magus' stomach followed, and the wizard could not help but groan.

"Mister Gaspar!" Marle rushed past Lucca and came close to the man, though she made sure to stay out of his reach. "Why are you doing this?! You've never done anything this before! What did Magus ever do to you?!"

Gaspar looked at her, and his hatred dissipated, "Young princess, I will tell you." He turned back to the Magus, let him go and then gave him a fierce right hook to the eye, the eye which was already swelling shut after the cane's blow. Gaspar's expression of hate, if anything, became more visible than ever. He then pointed at the Zealot prince. "This hateful piece of garbage is stinking up my living space! Now, you my dear, you and your friends charged blindly onto Mount Woe, then into the Ocean Palace, to try and save our kingdom, not knowing how much danger you were in. You tried to save us, with no regard for your own well being, and for that I will always be grateful." 

Gaspar pointed at the Magus. "But this little shit! He knew; he knew what was going to happen. It was all in the past for him! Wasn't it, you little ingrate?" Gaspar shook him a little, as Marle retreated to her previous position. "You could have saved her; you could have saved us all! All you had to do was kill the queen at the Ocean Palace, when everyone knew she had gone off the deep end! Then we would have survived! But no! You were never interested in saving anything! You just wanted revenge. You were so consumed in its thirst you couldn't do anything but salivate at the thought of meeting Lavos again. You never cared about Schala, or your birthright as king, or any of your people!" 

Magus finally got in a word edgewise. He spoke through bloody teeth, "Zeal was destined to fall, old man, and I fail to see why you should be so angry at me. It's not like you did anything, Guru."

"I was never in a position to do anything: you did! And I know you're wondering how a man of my position, even form such a base upbringing, could now disgrace himself so. When Zeal fell, I lost everything! EVERYTHING! Our kingdom was destroyed, and you expect me to be sanguine about it?! You expect me to be civilized about it?! Fuck you! Let me tell you something: you treat the fall of Zeal like some god-damned piece epic poetry! It's not. 

"I remember that day, you know. It was a Thursday, and my whole staff was looking forward to Friday, payday. And I remember, early in the morning, about an hour before I was summoned for the opening ceremonies at the Ocean Palace, surprising, because I had opposed the project, and ever since, I'd been under de facto house arrest. Your mother probably wanted to gloat at us Gurus in her triumph. Anyway, one of my underlings, very powerful time sorceress, Kara, yes, Kara, was her name. She just came by to wrap some work of hers, and wish everyone well. She was taking six months off of maternity leave.

"She and her husband, they had been expecting their first child. She birthed early; had quintuplets. Oh, you should have seen her, Janus; she was so happy. I don't think there's a happier face than that of a first time mother, except perhaps that of a first time father. Seeing her like that; that was my last happy memory. She was in prime of life, with children just beginning theirs. And all this time, I've never tried to find out what happened to them just a few hours later. I don't want to confirm my suspicions. And there were millions more, just like her."

Gaspar sighed, emotion seemed on the verge of overwhelming the man, but he regained composure, "But you don't really give a damn, do you? Your quest was always to destroy Lavos, and, well, you've done it. You have outlived your purpose!" Gaspar said. For a Zealot, the last phrase was the highest compliment; it meant that he was now free to live his life according to own will. Gaspar did not mean it as a compliment.

"And so have I. I'm not a Guru, I'm no longer your guide, I'm not anything anymore. So I can say what I've wanted to you little cocksucker since they drudged you up here. Because of your stupidity, I can never go home! Ever!" Gaspar sneered, then emotion left his face, and then his voice, "Schala was, is or will be happy without you. That's all you need know, my prince. Now go, and enjoy the fruits of your victory." Gaspar told the mage in mock congratulations, then slammed him into the wall so hard his head cracked against it. Gaspar let him fall in a heap on the ground. He looked over at one of the group and said, "Ayla! Come here!"   
Ayla, like everyone else, had been taken aback by Gaspar's violent outburst. She stepped forward; "Ayla sorry Ayla called Gaspar creepy old man…" she began somewhat nervously.

"Oh, that's all right, my dear. In your shoes, I might well have said the same thing. Now, I believe there was something you wanted to say to our dear prince here." Gaspar said as he rubbed his right knuckles with his left, both hands now resting on the top of his cane.

Ayla looked at him, "Gaspar mean Magus?"

"Yes, yes, go on." He encouraged her in a friendly way.

She went up to the Magus, cleared her throat, and said, "Before Magus go, Magus must undo special words on Glenn."

The Magus, getting his second wind, got to his feet and said, "You must be joking."

Glenn spoke up, "'Tis all right, lady Ayla. I needth not an advocate. Thee need not make mine plight thine own affair."

Ayla turned and looked at Glenn, "Glenn is Ayla's friend. Friend look out for friend. Ayla make this quick."

The Magus, standing several inches above the cavewoman, looked at her contemptuously. He was bruised, but unbroken. "Mongrel, you know very well that I have yet to remove that curse from him, despite the endless whining and threats from this band of idiots. If you think, well, if you think at all…If you believe I will cow before you now that I am weakened and exhausted from fighting Lavos, you are grav…"

Ayla gave a brutal kick to the Magus' shin, and it broke with a sickening crack. In battle, he was ready for anything, had healing magic and tonics at his disposal. This wasn't battle though; this was beating, the kind given by the vilest rouges to weary travelers on lonely roads.He fell to the ground, now covered in gunk. Blood began to stain his purple pants crimson red. Lucca deduced that he had suffered a very bad compound fracture.

Like an iron clamp, Ayla's hand contracted around his throat, cutting off his access to life sustaining air. He tried to use his hands to pry hers off, but strength was not his forte, it was Ayla's. 

"Ayla know Magus no afraid to die. Many like Magus. Magus has no reason to undo words on Glenn, so Ayla give Magus reason. Magus undo, or Magus suffer much. Of all here, Magus think Ayla most dumb. Dumb, blonde Neanderthal. But Ayla not dumb, Ayla chief!" The Magus was doing his utmost to maintain his composure; determined not to give her the satisfaction of seeing him squirm. 

Ayla continued, but this time in Guardian, "I am not stupid. And I will break you. Ay…I, have done it before. When Ioka fight Azala, many try to escape to Laruba. Whole hunting parties…went off and were…never seen again. Three summers ago, Kino and I catched one…of such a party. I did to him what I do to you, then I beat, then I tear off fingernails. I did this for three days, all days, and then, he broke. Now, will you undo?"

The Magus' body began to convulse, the hue of his face now approaching that of his hair. Ayla's face, on the other hand, became filled with a look not unlike disgust. Small gasps came from the Magus' mouth. A subconscious reaction began in Lucca's mind. The memory of mortal terror and slow suffocation combined to make two scars, scars so small that one would never notice them unless he were actively looking, on either side of Lucca's neck began to burn. If the cavewoman's request had not been so just, Lucca would have intervened on the Magus' behalf. Instead of a "yes" finally coming out of his mouth, he wheezed a very faint "Never," then clawed feebly at her hands.

Ayla's eyes grew wide in fury, "You not understand. After that, we catched all of the hunting party. The elders and I took them to the Meeting Place. There were six…in all. We buried them in the ground, up to the head. We coated heads with honey, and the fire ants come…came. All of Ioka watched heads being eaten, and the buried ones screamed like the children, the children up in front to see. I hated doing this, but no one ever try to escape to Laruba again. I will do what I must do. You will undo Glenn, no matter how long it takes." 

The Magus' eyes began to roll back in his head. Lucca couldn't stand by anymore. She said, "Ayla! Enough's enough, let him go! Let him breathe for God's sake!" Ayla released the wizard, whose cheek connected with the ground. He breathed in desperately, despite the gunk's sickening odor.

Ayla faced Lucca with a smirk, "Lucca, you know I won't kill Magus, he no good to me dead." For the first time, it occurred to Lucca that her friend was not a silly talking cavewoman with a penchant for partying, but a very dangerous chieftain. 

A nearby door clicked open, and out stepped Spekkio, the self proclaimed "Master of War." His current form was that of a red Nu, an old Nu. Instead of looking like a giant blueberry that had somehow managed to sprout arms and legs, as most Nus, he resembled a red ball such as Crono and Lucca used to throw at each other in games of dodgeball in days gone by. As he walked towards the group, he picked up Gaspar's derby, and placed it on the top of his own head. He stopped, took a breath to speak, then gagged and coughed. "Whoa, this stuff reeks!" He walked around to the Magus, "It must suck to be you, being covered in that gunk. Hey guys, if this is your idea of hazing, you're taking it a bit far…" he joked.

Gaspar interrupted him, "I assume you have something to say, with you being up and about." Gaspar swiped back his derby, exposing a tuft of green hair.

"Oh, yes, right" Spekkio said, "Okay, kiddos! I wanna extend my congrats to you all, especially the punk, the princess and the magician. That was the best damn fight I ever saw with less than ten combatants!"

Prometheus swiveled his head and asked, "Master Spekkio, you saw what happened after the Black Omen was destroyed?"

"Sure did, tin man!"

"Why did you not inform us this was so? We had much reason to be concerned for our friend's safety."

Spekkio laughed. "You didn't ask! Just like you didn't ask me what this goo is on the floor."

Prometheus made some electronic beeps that might have been the equivalent of a sigh. "What is it?"

"Glad you asked! Well, Crono was right, this is partly Lavos' blood, but that doesn't put the stink on it. See, when your friends killed the Lavos Core, all of its pent up energy was released caused a total protonic reversal. Completely liquefied the carcass! And that's what put the stink on this baby! Ha Ha! Won't see that again until Gozer tries to bust back in the timeline in 1084. Now, that's gonna be one hell of a fight! Nothing you guys need to concern yourselves with though." On any other day someone in the group would have inquired further, but this was today.

Marle was curious, "Prometheus, what exactly is total protonic reversal?"

The robot did not respond for a second. Finally he said, "Try to imagine all life as you know it stopping instantaneously and every molecule in your body exploding at the speed of light."

"That's bad, huh?"

"Acutely."

"Oh" Marle said, dumbstruck.

Spekkio smiled and said, "Okay, with that figured out, let me talk some sense into tall, dark and ugly here." He looked at the Magus, "Hee, Hee, just kidding kid!"

The smiled left his face, "Now kid, I've seen you in action, and you're one hell of a fighter under normal circumstances. Problem is, this ain't normal circumstances. Even if Gaspar over there takes off the Lock, you could get off one, maybe two darkbombs, then you're screwed. As it is you're well on your way to bleeding to death. Remember, healing spells can't replace lost blood, and they can't restore magic potency, and you'd need both to fight effectively here. Trust me on this. Remember, I'm the Master of War!"

"Never…" the Magus managed to groan.

"Ah, get off your high horse!" Spekkio reproached him, 'and will someone heal ol' blue here before he bleeds to death!" He looked around, "Hey tin man! You wanna be of assistance, here's your chance." 

Prometheus obliged Spekkio, though he took the long way around to avoid Gaspar. He wiggled between the other members of his team, quite a sight to see, as his body was shaped like a small, upright boiler, giving him a rotund appearance, with all the maneuvering difficulties involved. His heal beam went to work on the mage for the second time that day. In short order, the Magus was healed, though it was highly probable that he had more blood on him than in him. He was covered in the stuff, his pants, shirt, and cape, with splotches on the gloves. There was a drying steam of the stuff coming out of his mouth, and though his eye was no longer swollen shut, another stream flowed from it, making it appear he had cried blood. From the way Gaspar starred at him, Lucca thought Gaspar might have wished to have shattered the mage's nose as well. 

Magus made an angry groan and tried to leap to his feat, only to be caught midair by Spekkio's little arms, and sent crashing onto his ass. Spekkio sighed.

"Now, be a good little boy and sit! If you don't, I'll sic Ayla on you again." The Magus gave a slaying look, but kept quiet. "Now, I've seen her in action. Her persuasion technique is like her combat style: brutal, primitive and highly effective. And unlike your dad's D.S.S., or Mystic interrogators, or for that matter, the Akcrona from Crono's time, Ayla doesn't understand the concept of the use of terror in such matters. She'll just put you in a world of pain, and keep you there until you do what she says."

At the mention of the word 'Akcrona' Crono and Lucca shuddered as though one. Anyone living in the Guardia of 1000, and possessing his faculties, was terrified of His Majesties' secret police. Kidnappings in the night, torture sessions, rapes, summary executions, the stuff of legend and the stuff of reality were indistinguishable. Throughout Crono's ordeal with the Guardian justice system, it had been his one consolation that he had been arrested by the palace guard. Because they had jurisdictional supremacy, he had not been handed over to the Ackrona, and as bad Guardian Royal Prison had been, it was certainly better than being sent 'to the land of Libianca.' Infiltrating that prison would have been nigh on suicidal, rather than just stupid beyond all words, as it had been to bust into Guardian Royal. Well, maybe if one started a citywide riot, but that would be next to impossible. Maybe setting fire to the Neva, it was filled with petrochemicals and other pollutants…

Lucca shook her head to clear it. The thought of a river fire awoke the seven-year-old pyromaniac in Lucca. To see such a sight would have been so cool! But as she had missed part of the conversation, she was quite surprised to hear the Magus capitulate. 

"Very well! If all of you, and I mean all of you, will let me be, I will undo the curse on Glenn."

A smile spread across Spekkio's disgustingly large face, "Glad you finally came to your senses." The smile left. "Now do it." After a moment of reluctance, the Magus began to chant.

This time it was Lucca who was curious. She tapped Marle on the shoulder. Marle turned and said "What is it Lucca?"

Lucca chuckled a little sheepishly, with the kind of smile that exposes all the teeth. "Ah, I, I didn't hear that last part." She suddenly became very quiet and leaned towards her friend, "How, in the name of all that's good and holy, did he do that? We've been trying to get him to do that ever since he joined."

"Oh, well, Ayla started doing that." Marle replied in equally quiet tones. She signaled Ayla's direction with her thumb. Ayla was looking at the Magus, quietly punching her right hand into her left. Her face told all concerned she was not at all in a jovial mood. That explained a great deal.

Marle continued, "Lucca, this just isn't right. Magus is our friend; we shouldn't treat him like this. And I tried to tell Crono, but he was all non-chalant, and just shrugged his shoulders, and looked back like nothing was wrong. I don't get him sometimes, I really don't."

"Magus is our ally, and that is all he is." Lucca had long since learned the hated fact that she could not get a word in edgewise until Marle took a deep breath. This was to replenish the air she used to utter several sentences at a speed that would put some auctioneers to shame. "And what would you rather have, Glenn stuck as a frog for the rest of his life?"

Marle looked at her a bit surprised, "Of course not! It's just, there has to be a better way than this."

"We've tried everything else. There is no better way."

Marle gave an incredibly girlish chuckle, one that sounded very much like "Tee, hee!" Then she groaned in pain. This was followed by her smile, a smile so vacuous that Lucca would never see anything like it on anyone else. Then Marle said, "Lucca, you're so silly! There's always a better way!"

_Optimism…hurting…brain!_ Lucca suddenly wanted booze, or an aspirin. And despite what she had been taught in anatomy, she was sure her stomach was actually just to the left of her bellybutton, and the discomfort there was the beginning of an ulcer that would rage in the years to come. She groaned a little, and then faced the Magus' chanting to distract her.

When he finished, nothing happened. Not a spark, not a gust of wind, absolutely nothing. Everyone just looked at each other, waiting. Another few seconds passed before Ayla exclaimed angrily, "Magus! What this?"

The mage looked over at her. "I did my part. The curse is no longer binding." He turned to Glenn, "Now the frog must do his part. Can you listen, fool?"

"Aye, unlike thee, I can obey orders instead of merely giving them."

"Then go to the Denadoro Mountains. Once there, bathe in the falls by the cave of the Masamune. Then, the curse will be lifted, but only if you truly desire to be human again." 

Glenn croaked loudly, then said, "Thee need not worry about that." Ayla looked contented, obviously believing her work was done.

The Magus' tart expression only seemed to deepen as he turned towards Gaspar, "As for you, old man, you will regret making me an enemy. One day, when I am strong again, I will come back here and kill you. Slowly."

Gaspar responded in kind, "Go fuck a horse." They had been in Zeal long enough to know that was among the worst insults in the Zealot's tongue.

The Magus ignored him and turned around to face Lucca, "I shall require transportation to the Last Village." So he had decided to return to the ruins of his home era.

"If you ask nicely, I just might take you back there after I drop off Crono and Marle."

"Please." He said through clenched teeth. They had worn him down.

"Close enough." Lucca shrugged. "Come on guys, there's a good night's rest ahead of you. You've earned it." She started to walk off, Crono and Marle behind her. The mage called out to her.

She turned around, "What is it?" she asked indifferently.

The Magus sneered at her. "Thank you for not letting me get strangled to death by that flea infested madwoman. I, I didn't know you cared." He said coldly, then blew her a kiss. He smiled wickedly.

Lucca, under normal circumstances, might have been angered by this, but she turned around, half in panic. As she expected, she saw Marle with a dreamy look in her eyes again. Then she was angry. She turned around intent on glaring the Magus to death, but he had disappeared from out of sight. Enraged, she said, "Let's go!" and try not to stamp her feet. She wanted to break things, and scream, and maybe hurt someone. 

The trio began to move again, into the corridor that linked the Lamp Court to the docking port. Out of the corner of her eye, Lucca noticed that the dreamy look had not left Marle's eyes. This was trouble.

"Luc..." Marle began.

"No." Lucca was firm.

"But..."

Lucca turned towards the girl and pointed at her. She faced forward again, but not before saying "Not. One. Word." 

Which, of course, had no effect. "I know there's a connection there, Lucca. I can't help it if neither one of you one wants to admit it. You'll come around though." Marle's words might not have been so irritating if she didn't sound both so innocent and so assured at the same time. At least Lucca could see Crono's eyes roll back into his head in exasperation. She had sympathy, which helped when logical arguments with Guardian royalty failed. Lucca thought of happy things: bed, hiking, working in her lab, the Neva on fire from the industrial district to the Maeotis Sea…

_Lucca Lararis Ashtear, that is the dumbest idea you have ever had. Have you ever, ever heard of a river catching on fire? It can't happen! But then again, it wouldn't be the river itself, just the junk on top. On the other hand, if such a thing were possible, then wouldn't it have happened already? The Tims is in far worse shape than the Neva, at least Crono says so, but I'd remember it if the Tims caught on fire. Everyone and their mothers would have talked about it, so eventually, even I would have heard it. And besides, it would have been in the paper; the royal censors couldn't possibly have any reason to not let that tidbit print…_

So the night continued after the first drop off, Lucca's friends gathering their companions to validate her story to her king. Even the Magus was convinced to stay at Truce Inn, for a little while. The prospect of clean linens and the first indoor toilets he'd had access to since the fall of Zeal no doubt helped. Spekkio returned to his room shortly after the first drop. At last Gaspar was alone, in a way.

Prince Janus had lied of course, he had never considered removing the curse, unless immanent death propelled him to try and make peace with the universe. But because none of them had asked, Gaspar did not tell. Now, there was nothing for him to do anymore. He was forbidden to ever leave the End of Time, except if his employer allowed it. In twenty years, the number of times that happened was zero. It was logical; Gaspar knew too much about the flow of time to ever be safely re-released into it. He now had only the prospect of death to comfort him. He would age, he would die, and then he would be with the one he loved again. The ones he could not save on that day, the marks on his conscience that never allowed him to contest his exile to this place.

When he first learned of the ones deemed worthy to destroy the ancient beast, he had not been impressed. While the group had come to seven, only the first three were the ones destined to fight, the others had been boons to the cause. But these first three, they were but footnotes in history before they had been plucked from their time, and their lived altered irrevocably. 

The one that impressed Gaspar the most, but not much, had been Chronosus Carpenter, a thoroughly average man, save a bit of intelligence and a talent for command. Gaspar thought that if his employer saw it fit to use a Guardian war hero, there were better ones. What was worse was, his employer did not take the Carpenter of 1016 or 1010, but that of 1000, when he was barely a man, and not possessed of the good sense to discard a Medinan katana for the Tullan revolver that would find so much use by his side. 

Lucca Ashtear, a brilliant scientist whose career had been destroyed in its infancy. Her posthumously published theories would win her the Noble prize she sought gain with the device that destroyed her ambitions. 

Nadia Guardia, the last of her immediate family to die after their kingdom was overthrown. The manner of her death was more notable to future generations than the manner of her life.

Yet somehow, these people, barely children, had done what they had been chosen to do. Yet what was their reward for such a feat? Already, Gaspar could see the new time taking form, and it was bad indeed. Time groaned and strained seemed on the verge of break apart, as a second moon began to appear. Many different times, time the same, yet different. He could see things: the nature of the end of the Guardian Kingdom was greatly moderated, and would come a dozen years early. Strange technology and magic harnessed. A machine of great power in the future, yet in the past also. He could see a boy, his hair covered by a bandana, on a beach in land not part of the original design. He had with him a blond woman, strangely familiar, yet Gaspar did not know her. All he had to do was watch and wait, and he would learn soon enough. The boy had with him an instrument of great power, one to end the unexpected chaos and bring order back to time.

But for the three, if they had known, they would never have undertaken the quest they had just completed. Carpenter would die a dozen years early, fighting for his country, as had been his fate before. Guardia would die with him. Ashtear would die too, but would suffer far more than either of them. At least in the old time, there had been life for her after science, now there was nothing. Their lives cut short for their heroism. They had become Gaspar's friends, and he loved them in that capacity, and he silently raged that he was impotent to stop what was to be. 

A voice came to him, a whisper in a non-existent wind. He was finally being rewarded for his good service. He was told that things could change, if he wished them to. A new variable could be introduced, on that might prevent the new time in its current form; it might even allow greater things, depending on how the others reacted to it. 

But the choice was left to Gaspar, and he chose the variable. He did not have much choice: it was his only hope. The time stream froze in that instant, the second moon did not appear, and Gaspar watched with great interest, as the future waited to be born…


	4. Zenan Remembered

Author's Note: 05-17-03 Hello Readers! I have to say, writing is fun, and so are 500 level History classes. But they are also difficult and time consuming. And because I'm being graded on one, the other invariably suffers. Such is life. But I've been trying. One must understand that though Return to Normalcy had many bad people in it, the story lacks a villain. It's very character driven, so I actually am getting somewhere with this. On a side note, I don't seem to be a very good editor, so if someone would have the patience to beta read for me, I would be grateful. Enough chat, enjoy!

Zenan Remembered

Crono was eight years old again. It was the summer of 990, and after much begging and pleading and gnashing of teeth, Crono had gotten permission to bring Lucca along on the family holiday. A few weeks later, Lara Ashtear would be maimed into paraplegia, with Lucca as a blood soaked witness. A bit of Lucca would die then, and she would never be quite the same. But the two children, left to their own devices on the Zenan Bridge were wholly unaware of what was to come.

            "…And Dad says it was here that the great Ozzie lead the final attack on Guardia by the armies of the Magus. But the knights of the Square Table would have none of it and stood like a stone wall, breaking the enemy, with their blades and bodies! Wouldn't it be so cool, huh? If we could have been there? To see noble knights and valiant steeds and the Mystic hordes? Huh, huh?"

            Crono was on the point of hyperventilating. Zenan Bridge, over a mile in length, was for centuries the largest bridge, wooden or otherwise, in the world. Because the Zenan Straights underneath were the closest the Zenan and Porria Islands came to one another, it was also the only bridge that connected the two. It was the playground of heroes, but no battle there could compare to **the** Battle of Zenan Bridge.

            Lucca sighed half-heartedly, "Yeah, I guess it would've been cool."

             Crono looked at her puzzled, "Lucca, what's wrong?"

            "What do you think, Crono?"

            "But I told you before, your new house is **huge**! Omicrones could live there! The Obachi family lived there for like 300 years or something, and they were nobles!"

            "Some nobles. King Alexander freed the serfs, and the Obachis slid right into ignominy." Lucca said grumpily. 

            "Ig-nom-iny?"

            "I dunno. Dad used it. I think it means they stopped being real nobles cause they had no more money."

            "Oh."

            "Yeah, the house is huge, and Dad's happy he has the room to work on some really big stuff. There's this huge thing in the living room…but we were neighbors for like, well, forever! I'll only be able to see you in school, and to do that I'll have to take the trolley clear across the city. This sucks, it's not fair!"

             Crono got very serious for a moment. "Hey, Lucca," he put his hand on her shoulder. With the reflection from her huge glasses, he could barely see her eyes, but he knew they were sad ones. "I'll always be here for you, okay? I'll always be your friend. So buck up!" he said, flashing a boyish grin.

            Lucca warmly smiled back at him. "Thanks Crono. So we're gonna be friends forever?"

            "Yep." He unsheathed a large, thick, stick. "Now, just imagine it. We're there, it's pouring rain, hordes of Mystics are on the bridge, hoping to cross and destroy Guardia once and for all! Now Sir Andre of Petrona, worthy successor to Sir Cyrus that he is, has sent us, the greatest knights of the Kingdom, to show the Keeks…"

            "Crono, that's a bad word!"

            "Well, that's what the grownups call them! And I'm eight in a half, that's practically ten!" Lucca sighed in resignation. If he got a mouthful of soap, it wasn't her problem.

            "…Anyway, to show** Mystics** why they should never, ever fight with Humans!" He pointed his stick forward. "Charge!" 

They broke into a dead run, screaming their little heads off. A few yards down the bridge, they stopped, and Crono began to duel imaginary foes, doing his part to win a battle fought 390 years before. Lucca, armed with a similar stick, brought it up to cheek, and began acting as though she were fighting recoil.

"Lucca, what are you doing?!" her friend demanded.

"I'm blowing them away with my Winchester!"

Crono grabbed his face in frustration, "For the last time, Lucca! There were no guns in 600! No Winchesters, no repeaters, no factories in Arland to build Winchester Repeaters! Nothing: only swords! You've got a sword in your hands because there were no Repeaters at the Battle of Zenan Bridge…"

…Plasma Pistols were another matter it seemed. Lucca was standing staggered, and except for a great increase in height and her quirky brown leather cap, looked not much different from the little girl she had been. She was taking aimed shots at some Mystics who got too close to their position. The blasts coming out of the barrel were green, which apparently meant the power cell was almost drained. A look of angry concentration was on her face. _My best friend is hot_, Crono thought amusedly.

With Lucca's cover fire, Crono was safe enough to risk a spell. The golden hued automaton, then known to Crono as "Robo," was locked in melee with an animated skeleton. It was the last of those small golems that the Great Ozzie had brought forth by the darkest of necromancy. Crono tried to concentrate as his feet left the bridge and magic power focused within him. He hated the floating, and his feet on instinct reached for solid ground. He did his best to ignore the fear. Wind swept over him, making the moderate rain at the battle into a torrent around his person. 

Lightning…yes, elemental power. No… electricity, lights, power, Volta's battery, Edison's light bulb, positive, negative, discharge, Franklin's key on the kite…wait, Lucca and I did that when we were eight! Knocked us out cold and damn near killed us!

Crono used that memory, the smell of ozone, his whole body convulsing and shaking, and the half-second of fear that burned the scene into his mind forever. Then Crono felt it. The closest thing he could compare it to, though he was loathe to do so, was orgasm. Though not as pleasurable, the intense effort was suddenly relieved from him, making him feel slightly drained, and fatigued. It was definitely like orgasm. 

That moment, a bolt descended out of nothing, hitting the skeleton with full force and a deafening thunderclap. In an instant, those bones were torn asunder, fragmenting out like a pineapple grenade. Two years of mandatory Civic Defense classes compelled Lucca to hit the deck, while a charging Hench suddenly found himself with three quarters of a face. He didn't even scream, he just fell down deadweight. The wind around Crono protected him from the flying bone fragments, but it could not protect him from his mind's eye. 

When narrow corridors called for dismounting, Guardian Knights typically fought in three man squads. Many squads had been wiped out earlier in the day, and Ozzie had used the corpses of one of them to create these skeletons. One of those men was still alive, mortally wounded to be sure, but still unaffected by shock and blood loss. He had screamed horribly as his bones ripped through his flesh. Because the extremities came though first, he saw it too. Until the day he died, Crono never forgot the look on that man's face. Every time he prayed, he interceded for the soul of that man.

Crono landed on his feet, now that the spell was completed, and looked for the next opponent to slay. But if he had his way, he would have popped his eardrums. Crono had never quite believed his paternal grandfather, a veteran of the battle of San Domino, when alcohol had loosened his tongue enough to speak of it. Algus Carpenter had said there were a few moments of the clanging of blades, and musket pop, but mostly the din of battle was the screaming. The screaming of the attack, the screaming of the cowards, and worst: the screaming and wailing of the wounded. 

There was a knight; about 20 yards back slumped against a wooden rail. A nice, clean slice through the gullet had felled him, and he was now dripping with blood, though his left hand kept his internal organs internal. Crono knew there was a marked difference between the legends and epic poems of antiquity, and the flowery novels of heroism that dominated the 10th Century, now; at this moment, he knew why. Antiquity was succinct: "he fell in battle." Modernity was not, and was prone to giving descriptions of the fallen, as mortally wounded, with a smile upon his face, knowing he had nobly served God, King, Motherland, and the forces of Righteousness. Though he dies, he is happy knowing his brave, and equally noble companions shall carry the day, and that he did not die in vain.

The truth was this: that knight held his gut with his left, and his crucifix in the other. Blood dribbled from the corners of his mouth, and his brown eyes were fast clouding over. Those eyes had a look of terror that made Crono squirm when he looked at them.

The knight did not whisper, he did not utter, rather he screamed at the top of his lungs in sheer terror. "Oh God!" he would gasp, "Forgive me!" He would gasp again, "Consign me not to damnation! Please…don't let me go to Hell! Please! Forgive my transgressions, oh Lord!" Then he would scream in agony, right himself and begin again. It was vernacular trying to be noble; it may very well have been his own, private liturgy. 

Crono was on the verge of running back and putting the man out of his misery. He was too busy trying not to swallow his own tongue in fear of death to be reminded of the horrors that awaited the unrighteous. Crono had been a fairly good member of the Guardian Orthodox Church, insofar that he believed and tithed, but was far from pious. In the heat of this terrible slaughter, Crono made all kinds of vows and exhortations to himself to reform and lead an admirable life, free from all sin. Inside he knew that when the danger had passed, those words would be quickly forgotten. Crono looked back, but before he had to make the choice, the wounded man died with a groan.

"Take cover!" Crono was clotheslined by Lucca as a crossbow bolt whizzed overhead. Lucca fired a retaliatory shot, which would have killed the offending gargoyle, except that the gun only made a whirring noise and a click as Lucca depressed the trigger three tries in desperation. Lucca's ensuing "Fuck me!" was probably heard in Truce. In 1000 A.D.

She seemed dumbfounded for a moment as her opponent of the moment began to reload his crossbow. Crono looked at her, and though thick slabs of clear glass distorted her doe blue eyes, it was clear she was panicking. Crono had to get her fighting and fast, but first he had to groan from the clothesline that felt like it could have broken his neck. 

"Lucca, the gun!" 

"Crono…it's out," she whimpered.

"Not that gun, the other gun!"

And suddenly the panic was gone. "Oh." Lucca placed the Plasma gun in her satchel, leapt to her feet, and made a jerking motion with her right arm. This caused a shoulder strap to slide down, where Lucca caught its attachment: a rifle. At least it wasn't a repeater, or Crono would never hear the end of it. Lucca swiftly brought the gun to eye level, and fired, knocking the gargoyle onto his back, with a large chest wound and twitching extremities. "Gyha ha ha! Say hello to the 10th Century!" Lucca looked at Crono with wide-eyed satisfaction. "What'd I tell ya? Money's tight, but a Mauser is worth every kopeck!" 

Crono leapt to his feet, alarmed and angry. He grabbed the woman, who yelped with surprise, "Lucca, you crazy bitch! You were carrying a loaded gun without the safety! We're in enough shit as it is. I don't need to be worried about dying from friendly fire! You know, this almost got you kicked out of the sniper course. You think you're too hot shit for safety first!"      

            Lucca was quick to respond. "Hey, fuck you. I just nailed a Mystic with an unaimed shot at…15 maybe 20 yards. That's pretty damn good for a civilian! I just saved your life, and what do I get, huh? No 'thank you, Lucca', no 'you saved my life, Lucca,' no 'I wanna make mad, passionate love to you, Lucca' just "Lucca, you crazy bitch!' My God! It's so nice to know I'm appreciated!" Her eyes grew wide as a whizzing sound grew. "Take cover!" 

            Crono was on the ground again, rolling to the east side of the bridge. A slew of arrows fell near where they had been. When they stopped, Lucca was over him, and Crono would not dare pass up the opportunity. "It seems you like being on top, huh Lucca?" He smiled widely.

            Lucca was less than amused, "Keep dreaming, Lover Boy." She sighed. "You know, why couldn't I have gotten the ice magic? Then **I** could be all safe behind the lines, treating the wounded, not watching your sorry ass."

            "I have a very nice ass, thank you ve…Wait." Crono tilted his head back. "Oh…shit." A Mystic formation was on the bridge again, moving in slow lockstep. This time they were in the classic turtle formation, with shields on all sides, and one massive shield, supported by an exceptionally strong Omicrone, held above, protecting them from missiles. Lucca looked up, then down at her friend.

            "Pithy."

            The Zenan Bridge was the safest place in any battle fought in the area, as it was the key to victory for defender and invader alike. This was going to be the last battle of the war, and both sides, while not knowing that, knew it would be one of the last. The Great Ozzie had skillfully commanded the Mystic hordes for more than a decade, but his many victories had made him terribly arrogant. If Ozzie had learned form his mistakes, he might have later killed Crono when the latter launched his commando raid against the Castle of the Magus. But in this battle, Ozzie had been both sloppy and desperate. 

King Richard, called the Long Suffering, had two years before authorized the first Peasant Levy in the history of Guardia. Their offensive launched the following spring had, by sheer numbers, almost reversed the course of ten years warfare in the Porria, before being slaughtered by a counteroffensive led by the swordsman Slash. The Knights of the Square Table, feeling slighted that the King had armed their serfs, and implicitly given them a vote of no confidence, had refused to aid the commoners in battle. 'Teloga' was used as a rallying cry for agitators of class warfare on both sides of the noble divide ever since. Nonetheless, after the Knights themselves were routed at Rostov, both peasant and noble knew that only together could they triumph. United, they would be unbeatable. 

To delay the mobilization of the second Peasant Levy, Mystic raiders had destroyed a greater part of the bridge earlier in the year. Ozzie had gathered together the last of his reserves and marched out against the repaired bridge in early April. The King's order to get Tata across had forced the issue. If the horde were defeated, the Levy would form with little problem and Medina itself would soon be under siege. On the other hand, most of the King's knights were encamped at Zenan, including all of the elite Square Table. If they fell, nothing could stop Ozzie from taking Truce and the Levy would be irrelevant.

            All this meant that the battle of Zenan was a frenzied orgy of violence above, below and on the sides of the bridge. Crono could hear more than he could see, even if he peered through the planks, but several knights, only a few with special training, were even now climbing their way through the bridge's superstructure, often clinging for dear life with one hand and welding gladiuses, the short swords of their Vayan forbearers, in the other. Occasionally, Crono would hear a scream that would be cut off by a splash. 

            A wilder scene played out on the Zenan Straits themselves. Mystic and Guardian catapult batteries fired Ice Bombs into the Sea. Upon detonation these instantly created ice up to several feet thick, depending on volley and concentration. This meant that nearby liquid water, which included the water under the bridge, was so chilled that any who fell in would go into shock. A few minutes later, counter batteries would hurl massive stones to break up the ice. In the meantime, a mass of troops would charge across, slipping and sliding, while ballistas would try to disable the counter batteries. Astute commanders would have raiders dispatched in the rear to harass the same. 

Sometimes too, as was the case on the Guardian right, the armies would come out and fight one another in traditional ways of assault, feint, and charge. Witnessing the spectacle firsthand, this part of the battle was pitiful. The rain robbed the ice of all traction, and maintaining formation was impossible. Both lines disintegrated into individual duels, where men and Mystics spent most of the time simply trying to keep upright. Luckily, this favored the Knights, who mostly came from the old boyar families, families that emphasized the swordsmanship of the Vayan legions. It disgusted Crono that although casualties were often tremendous, 'charging the ice' was considered more cost effective in terms of lives than charging chokepoints like bridges, and far more expedient than a massing a sea borne invasion when time was of the essence. 

Crono, like most all Guardians, also innately hated Ice Bombs. Before their invention, Guardia was largely free from invasion, as logistics made island invasions by and large unprofitable. This was especially true for barbarians. The Ice Bomb changed all that, and when combined with the catapult, the result was perhaps the most masterful stroke of magi-tech innovation in recorded history. No one was exactly sure of the Ice Bomb's origins, but their first documented use was in December of 240, when Temujin and his Golden Fleet used them to make a corridor between the ships and the docks of Porre. Once the Golden Horde charged off the ships and crossed into the city, the defenders never stood a chance. They then razed the city to the ground, killed all the men and sold the women and children into slavery, destroying what Guardia taken at such cost a mere two generations before. Guardia became a tributary until 380, when the great battle at Kulikovo broke Tartar domination. Then the Huns came. Ever since, Guardia was afflicted with invasion, like divinely ordained plague for some unknown sin. But, all this was just an accident of history.

All this was important to know, because it meant that fighting on the bridge consisted mostly of skirmishes. This suited Crono fine, because like all Guardian youths, he had no real military training as of yet. That was for post-primary education. Since the end of the Great Patriotic War, 55 years ago, Civic Defense classes were to take the Guardian youth, most already proficient with some weapon, and make them into effective Partisans. But a Partisan stands no chance against organized, regular troops, like the ones now coming to kill Crono. 

'Robo' fell back to their position. Several pieces of bone potmarkered his surface. He knelt beside them and asked, "Do you require assistance?"

Lucca said no, but was almost unheard as Crono said, "I need an assessment."

The Robot made a few beeping noises and his green LED "eyes" flickered. "All damage incurred by me as of this moment is superficial, it seems that in spite of badly misaimed friendly fire by Longbow men on shore, neither you nor miss Ashtear require medical assistance. A Mystic formation five ranks wide and eight deep will, at present speed, overrun us in less than 90 seconds. The Longbowmen have destroyed the formation's Avian air cover, but cannot penetrate the formation's shielding. Crossbowmen could suffice from this distance, but even if mistress Marle were not otherwise engaged, she would lack the necessary firepower for a successful engagement. I advise a hasty retreat."

"Wait, Robo, would this suffice?" Lucca held out her right arm with the rifle in it.

"If that is a Mauser 998 bolt action rifle using 7.62 caliber rounds, then yes it can penetrate, but the firepower…"

"Good enough." Luca rolled off Crono to the very edge of the bridge, jammed the bolt lever upright, pulled it back, then slammed it back into place, reloading the weapon. She aimed as best she could, her tongue protruded from the side of her mouth. Then a loud crack caused Crono's ears to ring and the Omicrone's eye to explode. Blood flew out the back of the giant's head; Crono wasn't sure whether to be horrified or think it was cool. The dead Mystic fell, perhaps crushing some of his comrades, but most broke formation, dazed and confused as to what exactly happened. Their overhead shield was now at their feet and ten seconds later, a deadly missile barrage began felling them. Most fled, some blindly charged forward. Crono charged as well.

Those Mystics that were not knocked off the bridge by Robo's first, with its fifteen-foot chain extension, were then cut to pieces by Crono. These Mystics actually had some training, and every time his sword and theirs connected, Crono's nerves rattled with the very real prospect he could die. Strangely enough, this is what he had wanted to do all his life: become a great warrior and slay the enemies of Guardia. He was greatly annoyed that no one had ever told him that the dead lose bladder control. It was almost as if their piss and shit were a final act of defiance, taking some of the sweetness of victory out of mouths of their conquerors. If he'd known that, perhaps he would have chosen another profession to pursue.

Lucca screamed loudly; it must have been from a terrible surprise as there was no expletive. Crono was momentarily distracted, and an Ogre's claws slashed across his arm. Before "Dr. Carpenter" could perform a much-needed amputation, Robo's metal slammed into the Ogre's head, making a sickening cracking sound and crushing the skull like an empty beer can. 

Crono immediately turned and ran to Lucca. Her weapon was discarded, and both her arms were wrapped around a rail pole, but even this death grip was undermined by the moisture soaked wood. She was thrashing about, and seemed to whimper in fear. Crono said not a word to her, readied his sword then thrust his torso over the edge. In a fraction of a second, Crono saw a green imp with a dagger in his teeth, with both hands on Lucca's left boot, though the scratch marks told Crono the little bastard had started at the mid calf, which greatly upset Crono. Then, he thrust his sword and ran the imp through. The little imp died with a scream as gentle thunder broke. Crono yanked, but found his sword was stuck in the imp, and Lucca found she could not shake off the imp's death grip on her boot. 

Lucca yelped as Crono grabbed her ass with both hands and essentially threw her back onto the bridge. She rolled onto her back, breathing heavily from fear. Crono meanwhile had yanked the imp free of Lucca's boot put him under his own, and yanked his sword free. In an act of callousness, Crono threw the imp over the edge of the bridge into the sea, and didn't feel the least bit bad about it. He bent over Lucca as he wiped off his sword with a bit of his shirt. "You know, why couldn't **I** have gotten the ice magic? Then I could be safe behind the lines and not saving your sorry ass."

Lucca growled as she reached out and took possession of her gun. She stood up and looked at Crono. "No, you saved me. You gave my sorry ass a wegie." She stuck her free hand down her pants to rectify the situation, "Besides, I have a glorious ass."

"Beauty's in the eye of the beholder, I guess."

"You know, you never say this shit to Marle. You like her or something?"

Crono wasn't entirely honest, "It's not that." Then he was scrupulously honest, "It's that if I did, she'd punch my arm; then I'd break hers, and that wouldn't be good for anyone. More to the point, only a baboon has more hair on its butt than you."

"A baboon doesn't have hair on its butt!"

"Exactly so."

"Uh…thank you?"

"Crono! Lucca! More are coming!" Robo broke into their conversation. 

They looked around. The rain was still moderate, but the southern sky was very dark, and moving north. The sun was sinking below the horizon. The wind was picking up, and soon early May would feel like late February, though for the moment, it was more dark than cold. Robo suddenly shot out a laser beam above the bridge. Crono and Lucca could now see a flock of Avians, carrying other Mystics. The beam connected, and Crono instinctively thought of, then wished for, roasted chicken. The unfortunate Mystic dropped his cargo, an exceptionally wide Hench. This one could think on his feet; the second he landed, he rolled himself into a ball and rolled toward Lucca. Crono was too stunned to do anything, so the Hench rolled on unopposed. Lucca did the only thing she could think of, she jumped, spreading her legs as much as possible. Amazingly enough, it worked. She landed, turned and without thinking, shot the Mauser one handed, sending a bullet straight into the Hench's back. He began to groan terribly, until Lucca reloaded and with both hands, shot him in the head. 

In the mean time, the other Avians released their cargo, another Hench and an Omnicrone. If the turtle formation had survived, this could have been an excellent battle insertion. As it was, it showed inflexible and sloppy planning on Ozzie's part. Crono wished Lucca could use her fire magic here, instead of simply relying on the gun. Nonetheless, Robo quickly killed the Hench. Lucca shot the Omicrone in the stomach, and when the giant doubled over in pain, Crono lopped his head off with a clean slice. 

Crono staggered away from his victim, then leaned heavily on a rail. He panted heavily, and his muscles were beginning to ache. Lucca looked at him, then at the machine. She said, "Hey Robo, can you scout ahead? We need a little breather."

"Certainly, Lucca," and the robot began to walk away.

Lucca walked over to her friend, and gently ran her hand through his thick and thoroughly saturated hair, taking it off his forehead, and back onto his scalp. She smiled slightly. "Didn't I tell you sophomore year, first day of Civic Defense, that fighting with an overgrown streaknife was a stupid idea? And did you listen to me: your best friend who is a genius?" She shook her head. "No, you didn't. 'Run hither thither, and you will whither.'"

He looked at her tiredly, "I never heard that saying before." He was sure Lucca had to be sweating at this point, but the rain made an assessment impossible. But she looked only a little worn, whereas Crono felt quite haggard. 

"I just made it up. Here," she took out a little ether bottle, removed the cap and stuck it under his nose. 

He took a whiff, and made a face. "Oh, that'll put hair on your balls." Now more awake, Crono said, "First, I am the best swordsman in Truce. Period. I led the Fencing Jesters to victory in the Court two years ago, while winning first place in the katana class two years in a row. I haven't begun to slice and dice. And second, thank you, Lucca."

"You're welcome."

"You know, they're gonna keep putting that stuff in Marle's face to keep her on healing duty. She's going to be so out of it."

"Not anymore than usual, I should think."

"Ha, ha, ha. Very funny, Lucca. Now…we gotta start moving again or I'm going to be too sore to stand." Crono's speech was slurring ever so slightly, and mentally, he begged God for a wonderful, soft, bed where he could rest for the next two or three years.

"Alright, let's get through before we all come down with pneumonia. But first, do you need a tonic?"

"I think you need one with those scratches on your legs."

She looked at leg wounds. "Nah, I save my tonics for when I really need them." 

Lucca seemed to be waiting for him, so Crono shook his head violently to wake himself, pelting a flinching Lucca with yet more water. "You know, all I wanted was one year, just one fucking year between High School and the Military Academy. Just one year of freedom before my ass becomes government issue. Cause you know, once I graduate, they'll probably send me on garrison duty in Port Arthur for the rest of my life, with a bunch of peasant conscripts who'd like nothing more than to string me up by my testicles. It doesn't matter." He suddenly felt called. "I need to piss." In the midst of this titanic battle raging all around, he unbuttoned the front of his pants and that's exactly what he did, right off the bridge. He didn't even notice that right behind him was the decapitated body of an Omicrone lying in a pool of his own blood. 

Out of respect, Lucca faced towards the rail, right beside Crono. He would never have been so blunt or crude to anyone else, but Lucca was his best friend. For her part, she didn't want to think about the rain, and began the conversation again. "Hey Crono, relax. Heh, heh, all you gotta do is get a monocle and grow a waxed mustache and you're set for the General Staff." She laughed a little more. "Of course, you could always join the Navy. That way, you'd probably end up in the Krondstadt and that's right across the harbor."

"Oh, no, Lucca. All Navys work on rum, sodomy and the lash, and I only like one of those. And no jokes from you, you know it's the rum."

"Awe! I just got my dominatrix outfit in the mail, and I was so eager to try it out too." 

Crono groaned. "Lucca, do you ever listen? Wait, that's rhetorical. Anyway, my year's been shot to shit. I mean, I know that saving the world is, well, more worthwhile than drinking, philandering, and picking fights with dockworkers, but I really wish I didn't have the cops hunting me down while I'm doing it. I mean, I would have liked to do some real research instead of hopping right into the gate, after getting you that pea-shooting monstrosity. You know there's two or three seminaries with 30 miles of Truce, and I'm sure the library at the University of Truce would have something." Realizing his business had been completed; he buttoned his pants as the rain became torrential.

"Well, sometimes you don't get what you want. Like right now, I want an umbrella."

Crono sighed. "Yes, that's true. The problem is, that our best lead comes from a Mystic legend. I mean it does make sense considering the Magus' sudden disappearance shortly after Zenan, but I've never head **that **story before."

"Neither have I." Lucca said in protest.

"Yeah, but you forgot Queen Leene was saved by the then named 'Sir Frog in the Manoria Cathedral.'"

"That's because you didn't tell me on the way to the cathedral, you heartless Bastard! You know I'm scared of Frogs!" 

"I wasn't sure if Glenn of Trann was going to show up or not after we changed things. Besides, the look on your face was priceless. And, wait, you know what? The kidnapping of Queen Leene is one of the most important events of the Mystic War, and if you forget something like that, you deserve to have the bejeezus scared out of you."

"I told you, History's not my thing, okay? Up until now, history was useless to me. And don't you get all huffy puffy about it."

"Lucca…if you want to know the path, you have to know where you've been, as well as where you're going."

Lucca looked at him quizzically, "Crono, why don't you go to University? You're not as smart as me, but you've got a fine mind. I think you're wasting your time if you go into the military. I know you: you don't strike me as…bellicose enough to make a career of this shit. Much less pick fights with dockworkers." She snorted, "Much less philandering: you've told me several times in inebriation that you want to save yourself for the right girl. So why do keep running your mouth, saying that stupid shit? Wait, that's rhetorical."

"In the days of the Republic, before it was overthrown by Gaius Julius Czar, may he burn in Hell forever, the Vayan Legionaries elected their officers for their stable temperament and good judgment. Fire-eating gives indigestion; clear thinking gives victory."

"You see? That's what I'm talking about."

 "Lucca, Guardia needs men like me. I could go to University, but I'm only good at Philosophy, Literature and History. The liberal arts are useless unless you want to teach. I want to do something useful. I want to be remembered by history, not spend my life teaching it. History only remembers those whose exploits are worth remembering, and no teacher is worth remembering." Crono added, "Except Sewcrates, Cupo, and Aristotelian, of course, but that's mostly because they were the first real philosophers."

He sighed. "Lucca, I'm tired, bloody, and my feet hurt. I'm soaked to bone, and cold as hell, and I'm not done yet. I've seen things so horrible today that I wanna tear my eyes out." He sighed again, "I, I wasn't really scared in the Cathedral; I wasn't scared in the ruins, not in the labs or Arris, or the factory. I wasn't even scared when they were going to lop my head off, that was…just too surreal for me to comprehend. But I'm scared now. I mean; I've never felt made real, more alive, and never more afraid to lose what I have. Guardia's victory in this battle is a foregone conclusion, but I can't let these people fight it out, I can't stand by and watch them die if I can save them, any of them. I want to run, I probably should, but I can't. Why?" 

She smiled a little. "Because you're a good man. You've always had courage my friend, but wisdom, well, it nice to know you're getting it." She looked right at him "Hey, I've seen everything you have today. Crono, I don't want to be here either. But we can't go home, and what we're doing needs to be done. Forget all that crap you read about knights and maidens, cause that's what it is, crap. This…" she spread her arms wide, right index finger on the rifle trigger, "…is glory." She spit disdainfully. "Heroics is dirty, dangerous work, and I want no part of it. In the end though, we're both suckers. But, I want you to know that I'll always be there when you need me. I got your back, okay? Now, we've had our breather, lets do this and go to bed…" And they trudged south, to more terror and death.

Crono awoke slightly uneasy. He was in his own bed, but the cuts and abrasions all over his body told him that, well, it told him nothing. He remembered with too much clarity for it to be a dream. It was a memory, a flashback. That's right; yesterday, he'd killed Lavos and survived to tell the tale. After Lucca had dropped him off in the Sheld Woods, he'd barely been able to walk the few hundred yards back to his house, get inside and strip, then fall asleep.  

 After all that, he should have been happy. But now that he was fully rested, he felt like throwing up. He also felt a weight upon him. He wanted to crawl into bed, and sleep some more, but feeling inexplicable skittishness, he knew that was impossible. He turned to his right and threw off the covers, making sure not to look at the painfully bright sunshine streaming in through his window.

'_What's wrong with you, Crono?_' he thought to himself. '_You just defeated the greatest threat humanity has ever faced. You've won the heart of the fairest maiden in the land, the princess no less! You've been on a glorious adventure most men can only dream of. And you're letting a little pitched battle get to you? It does not become a savior of mankind.'_

Crono said nothing as he got up. He willed the weight to the back of his mind, and put a smile on his face. After all, he'd become a hero, and gotten everything a hero could want, even a measure of wealth. He looked at the little windup alarm clock on his desk, the one he'd never used as an alarm. It was 8:46 A.M. and unless he'd slept for two days straight, it was October 30th, 1000 A.D. This was going to be a good day. After all, it was the first day of 'happily ever after.' 

Author's Note: Though it makes for good gaming to have constant and incremental weapon upgrades, I just can't imagine cavemen selling guns. It just doesn't work for me. So, in the interest of logic, I had Lucca buy the best gun available on the market in her time as soon as she got back from the future. That's what anyone going on a dangerous expedition would do I think. Zealean guns and plasma weapons might be better, but I figure Lucca would have to have readily available ammunition, which she could buy in 1000 A.D. 

            Another thing I couldn't help myself on: I know there was never any mention of Ice Bombs in Chrono Trigger. However, it seems to me that in a word where one can imbue objects with magical properties, that something that could facilitate rapid movement across small bodies of water would provide an immense and decisive tactical advantage. So much so, that everyone and their mother would try and discover it.  

            I basically wrote this scene to see if I could write a battle satisfactorily. I figured that if Crono and company were to be volunteers at Zeenan, I think the princess would best be used behind the lines, where her healing powers could best be put to use. At any rate, I was hoping to achieve a violent callousness like Sergio Leone. However, after watching AMC's digitally remastered "The Good, The Bad and the Ugly," the attempt looks quite feeble. As always, all reviews, good, bad and ugly are greatly appreciated. 


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